THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


X 

/? 


RECITATIONS, 

EPICS,  EPISTLES, 

LYRICS  AND  POEMS, 

HUMOROUS  AND  PATHETIC. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR, 


PATRICK 

(SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  ) 


FI  RST    EDITION. 


"I'd  rather  know  the  lines  I  penned 
Made  one  hour  pass  more  cheerily. 
More  lightly  and  less  wearily, 
Than  know  that  readers  drearily 

Went  blubbering  on  from  end  to  end." 

C.  G.  Halpine. 


OSWEGO,  N.  Y. : 

R,  J.   OUPHAUT,   BOOK  PRINTER  AND  STATIONER. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  18S6, 

By  PATRICK  FENNELL, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO  THE 

BROTHERHOOD  OP  LOCOMOTIVE  ENGINEERS, 

AN   ORGANIZATION  MUNIFICENT  IN  CHARITY, 
ADHERENT  TO  PRINCIPLES, 

its  Pembers^aithf ul  to  guty  and  Htnsctf  teh  in  gent, 

THE  CONTENTS  OF  THE  FOLLOWING  PAGES 

ARE   FRATERNALLY  DEDICATED, 

BY  ONE   WHO  IS 
PROUD  TO  BE  OF  THEIR  NUMBER. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


762914 


PREFACE. 

In  presenting  to  the  public  the  following  collection 
of  verses — dignified  by  my  friends  with  the  title  of 
poems — I  conform  to  the  wishes  of  many  corres 
pondents  of  mine,  scattered  over  various  sections  of 
the  country.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I 
claim  no  merit  whatever  for  them.  The  major  part 
of  them  were  written  to  gratify  my  own  whims,  as 
the  various  subjects  would  present  themselves  to 
me  ;  and  they  mirror  my  mind  at  the  time  of  their 
composition. 

My  object  in  writing  a  preface  is  to  explain  the 
tone  of  several  articles,  which  have  appeared  in  the 
columns  of  the  Engineer  s  Monthly  Journal,  to 
readers  who  were  acquainted  with  my  social  position 
at  the  time  of  their  publication,  and  who  have  yet 
to  learn  why  I  assumed  the  character  I  did.  In 
May,  1873,  there  were  several  members  of  the 
Brotherhood  of  Locomotive  Engineers  assembled  in 
the  room  of  Sub-division  No.  152,  located  at  Oswego, 
N.  Y.,  waiting  for  the  time  to  arrive  to  commence 
the  proceedings.  The  Journals  for  April  were  being 
distributed,  and  many  complaints  were  made  that 
the  columns  were  full  of  letters  from  engineers' 


VI  PREFACE. 

wives.  One  bachelor  in  our  midst,  on  the  shady 
side  of  forty,  said  he  wished  he  were  a  Benedict  and 
he  would  insist  on  his  wife  joining  the  army  of  con 
tributors.  After  considerable  criticism,  carried  on 
in  a  carping  mood,  I  was  requested  to  take  the  matter 
up,  in  behalf  of  Division  152,  and  solicit  wives  for 
those  who  were  lacking  them,  so  we  could  add  our 
quota  to  those  who  were  writing  oVer  the  signatures 
of  "Wife  of  an  Engineer  of  Division  So  and  So." 
I  took  the  hint  and  wrote  the  verses  headed  :  "  A 
Member  of  One-Fifty-Two,"  and  adopted  a  nom  de 
plume.  During  the  time  I  remained  incognito,  I 
not  only  enjoyed  fun  myself,  but  contributed  to  the 
enjoyment  of  all  who  were  in  the  secret,  and  many 
a  hearty  laugh  we  had  at  the  numerous  enquiries 
made  to  know  "  who  is  Shandy  Maguire  ?  "  After 
about  two  years  the  secret  was  discovered,  but  not 
before  the  nom  de  plume  had  attained  notoriety  from 
Manitoba  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  from  the  At 
lantic  to  the  Pacific,  amongst  the  railroad  fraternity. 
This  I  say  without  the  slightest  intention  of  boasting. 
If  I  cannot  claim  merit  for  my  productions,  I 
certainly  can  claim  that  a  great  many  of  them  were 
constructed  under  very  novel  circumstances  ;  planned 
in  the  cab  of  a  locomotive,  many  of  them  written  by 
the  flickering  light  of  the  gauge-lamp,  or  at  an  open 
furnace  door,  or  when 


PREFACE.  vii 

•'  Stalled  in  huge  snow  drifts  as  high  as  the  stack  " 

waiting  for  the  shovellers  to  dig  us  out,  meditated 
or  final  words  jostled  out,  passing  over  rough  joints, 
at  a"  rate  of  speed  of  sixty  miles  an  hour. 

Those  who  have  read  my  contributions  to  the 
Engineer 's  Journal  will  find  them  in  the  following 
pages  in  the  order  in  which  they  appeared  in  that 
valuable  publication.  They  are  interspersed  with 
others,  in  as  near  the  same  order  in  which  they  were 
written  as  a  hasty 'compilatio'n  would  permit,  and  the 
whole  are  now  launched  forth  to  public  view  "  with 
all  their  imperfections  on  their  head." 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MEMORIES  OF  YOUTH. 

In  a  listless  mood  reclining1, 

On  the  flower-spangled  heather, 
Where  the  clover-scented  breezes 

Kissed  my  forehead  with  their  balm, 
There  a  maiden  sat  beside  me, 

Both  our  hearts  entwined  tog-ether, 
As  we  lingered  in  the  gloaming 

Of  that  evening's  summer  calm. 

Down  the  west  the  sun  descended. 

And  athwart  the  sky  the  streamers 
Flashed  in  glorious  golden  splendor, 

On  that  eve  of  long  ago ; 
There  delighted,  filled  with  rapture. 

Like  a  pair  of  angel  dreamers, 
We  enjoyed  the  scene  of  grandeur. 

And  the  day-God's  parting  glow. 

Up  the  east  fair  Luna  floated, 

Through  the  ambient  air  serenely, 
And  the  stars  began  to  twinkle 

In  the  distant  dome  of  night ; 
With  intoxicated  rapture 

I  beheld  my  lover  queenly, 
As  her  eyes  were  growing  humid 

With  such  visions  of  delight. 


10  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

We  were  young1.     No  cloud  of  sadness 

Dimmed  the  morning-  hopes  we  cherished, 
Not  a  wave  swept  our  horizon 

That  could  make  our  hearts  despond ; 
And  our  love,  as  pure  and  holy 

As  ere  cloistered  virgins'  nourished, 
Made  us  happy  and  contented 

In  its  idolizing-  bond. 

Ere  the  moment  came  for  parting 

From  our  Eden,  she  consented 
To  entwine  her  life's  young-  fancies 

With  the  boyish  hope  of  mine ; 
With  embraces  chaste  and  fervid, 

Our  betrothal  was  cemented, 
As  pressed  closely  to  my  bosom 

She  did  fearlessly  recline. 

Many  years  in  Time's  great  ocean 

Have  been  steadily  increasing 
Since  we  drifted  from  the  vista 

Of  our  early,  youthful  bloom ; 
But  the  love  implanted  truly, 

Will  exist  through  life  unceasing, 
And  o'er  death  will  rise  triumphant, 

To  survive  beyond  the  tomb. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  11 

A  MEMBER  OF  "ONE-FIFTY-TWO." 

Messrs.  Wilson  and  Greene  :  I'm  an  old  country 

chap, 
From  the  soles  of  my  boots  to  my  greasy  old 

cap; 

I  am  rough  and  unlettered,  untutored  in  mind, 
Yet,  a  good-hearted  fellow  as  ever  you'll  find. 
I  know  ev'ry  daughter  and  son  of  my  mother, 
Yet  thousands   on    thousands  address  me  as 

"Brother;" 

The  reason  I'll  tell  confidential  to  you  : 
Because  I'm  a  member  of  One-Fifty-Two. 

So  much  for  myself,  now  a  word  for  the  boys — 
The  fifty  brave  fellows  each  comp'ny  employs ; 
Officials  have  boasted  no  better  are  found, 
To  do  their  whole  duty  the  universe  round. 
And  dear  Mr.  Wilson,  if  e're  you  come  o'er 
To  our  beautiful  town  on  Ontario's  shore, 
Ther's  a  cead  millie  failthe*  awaiting-  for  you 
From  all  of  the  members  of  One- Fifty-Two. 

I  notice  each  month  as  the  Journal  appears, 
Affectionate  letters  which  melt  me  to  tears, 
From  those  interested  in  all  of  our  lives, 
(God  bless  them,  the  darlings  ! )  the  engineers' 
wives. 

*A  hundred  thousand  welcomes. 


12  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Oh  !  lucky  "plug-pullers"  how  bless'd  is  your  lot, 
Returning-  at  night  to  your  own  little  cot, 
To  see  the  bright  smiles  there  awaiting  on  you. 
And  forty  wives  wanting  in  One-Fifty-Two. 

Now  beautiful  readers,  a  word  in  your  ear, 
It  comes  from  a  heart  that  is  true  and  sincere  ; 
A  bachelor's  life  for  myself  has  no  charms, 
I'll  change  for  a  pair  of  affectionate  arms. 
And,  faith  !  I  will  love  her  whoever  she'll  be 
She'll  never  regret  being  wedded  to  me — 
Whoever  shall  wish  a  good  husband  to  boast, 
May  drop  me  a  line  by  return  of  the  post. 

I  wish -a  long  life  to  the  B.  of  L.  E., 
If  true  to  our  motto  long  lived  we  shall  be ; 
In  union  is  strength,  if  united  we  stand, 
We'll  be  recognized  as  a  power  in  the  land. 
The  prayers  of  the  widows  and  orphans  ascend 
To  Heaven,  to  bless  us,  for  proving  their  friend 
Reward  we'll  receive,  it  awaits  us  in  store, 
When  brakes  are  set  down  on  eternity's  shore. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  13 

A  LETTER  IN  VERSE. 

Messrs.  Wilson   and  Greene :    'Tis  the   urgent 

desire 

Of  your  ardent  admirer,  named  Shandy  Maguir  e, 
To  be  granted  a  pass  in  the  Journal,  if  so, 
I  will  whistle  off  brakes,  as  aboard  I  do  go. 
I  hope  a  reward  you'll  receive  for  the  time 
You  squander,  correcting-  this  doggerel  rhyme  ; 
Then  all  of  my  critics  may  go  to  the  deuce, 
I  care  not  a  fig1  for  their  caustic  abuse. 

One  critic  I  love — as  I  wrote  in  July— 
The  clear  azure  depths  of  a  bonnie  bright  eye, 
To  send  through  my  soul  an  affectionate  dart, 
And  soothe  with  its  glances  my  whimsical  heart. 
I  know  of  a  fair  one  as  bright  as  the  dawn, 
With  footsteps  as  light  as  a  wood-nymph  or  fawn . 
She  prays  for  my  weal  ev'ry  morning  and  night, 
And  welcomes  me  home  with  sincerest  delight. 

Experience  has  taught  on  the  railroad  of  life 
The  time-card  to  run  by's  a  virtuous  wife. 
The  grades  may  be  heavy  and  tedious  to  climb, 
Her  precepts  are  certain  to  keep  us  on  time. 
The  curves  may  be  short,  the  embankments  be 

high, 
Her  prayers  for  our  safety  reaches  the  sky, 


14  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

They  rise  from  a  heart  of  affectionate  love, 
To  the  throne  of  the  Master  Mechanic  above  ! 

I'll  state  to  the  brothers  all  over  the  land, 
Though  young-,  our   Division   up   bravely  can 

stand ; 

Financially  truly,  fraternally  too, 
Are  virtues  prevailing-  in  One-Fifty-Two. 
And  now  the  "salt  pointers"  just  wheel  into  line, 
They  fling-  out  the  banner  of  One-Sixty-Nine  ; 
Success  may  attend  them  and  g-uide  them  aright, 
Last  star,  though  not  least,  of  our  galaxy  bright. 

Success  to  our  Brotherhood,  flashing  on  high, 
The  strongest  which  floats  'neath   Columbia's 

sky; 

It  guards  us  securely  with  counsels  sincere, 
And  offers  protection  to  each  engineer. 
Oh !  far  in  the  future,  sincerely  I  pray, 
Be  glory  around  it  as  bright  as  to-day. 
Lord  answer  my  prayer  is  the  urgent  desire 
Of  one  of  its  members  called — Shandy  Maguire. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  15 

TO  THE   LOCAL  EDITOR  OF  THE  MORNING 
HERALD. 

(MR.  JAMES  CRONLEY.) 

Dear  Jim,  since  Pete  Blair  has  been  captured  at 
last, 

And  took  to  his  bosom  a  wife, 
Sincerely  to  make  all  amends  for  the  past, 

In  penance  the  rest  of  his  life. 
Remember,  'tis  time  that  yourself  should  forsake 

The  tricks  of  the  bachelor  clan, 
By  towing-  some  girl  rigirt  into  your  wake, 

And  steering-  through  life  like  a  man. 

Consider  how  happy  your  pipe  you  can  smoke, 

As  both  of  you  sit  by  the  fire ; 
How  sweetly  she'll  laug-h  and  ne'er  think  that 
you  joke, 

When  swearing  she's  all  you  admire  ! 
She'll  list  to  the  yarns  you'll  truthfully  spin, 

Of  desolate  days  tyou  have  known, 
As  nobly  you  steered  through  the  breakers  of  sin, 

Unloved  through  this  world  and  alone  ! 

In  a  few  fleeting  years,  an  old  hulk  you  will  be, 

Without  either  rig-ging  or  spars ; 
You  will  roll  in  the  trough  of  a  bachelor  sea, 

The  same  as  all  other  old  tars ; 


16  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

And  if  married,  you'll  coast  near  those  spice- 
laden  vales, 

Where  bright  orange  blossoms  are  seen, 
With  cool  zephyrs  to  sing1  in  your  sweet-scented 

sails, 
In  Benedict  waters  serene  ! 

Oh  !  Jim,  think  of  that !    You  are  bashful  I  know, 

And  rather  inclined  to  despair ; 
Up  courage !  my  boy,  and  a  wife-hunting-  go, 

Indeed,  you  are  as  handsome  as  Blair  ! 
But  if  you  should  fail  in  your  cruise  for  a  wife 

Don't  ever  sit  down  and  repine ; 
For,  sooner  than  see  you  run  single  throuh  life, 

Old  pard  !  get  instructions  from  mine  ! 


A  REPLY  TO  SALSIE. 

Ah,  Salsie,  my  darling- !  I've  lately  been  dreaming 
That  you  are  the  g-irl  whom  I've  looked  for  so 

long-; 
You   stole  to  my  bosom  like  morning's  first 

beaming, 

And  won  this  response  to  your  exquisite  song- 
I  find  in  that  answer  you  sent  to  my  ditty, 
Of  all  your  admirers  you  love  me  the  most 


SHANDY   MAGUIKE.  17 

I'm  sure  you  are  handsome,  truehearted,  and 
witty, 

Inferred  from  your  lines  "by  return  of  the 
post." 

Now  "Salsie" — that  name  I  will  change  if  no 
falter 

Will  come  from  yourself,  my  affectionate  'gal' 
Henceforth,  till  we  meet  the  good  priest  at  the 
altar, 

I'll  call  you  the  brief  little  pet  name  of  "Sal." 
"Make  haste  to  the  wedding"  your  motto  must 
be,  love, 

Long  courtships  are  foolish  when  states  inter 
vene  ; 

I'm  anxious  your  sweet  smiling  features  to  see, 
love, 

I  burn  from  my  boots  to  my  greasy  caubeen. 

But  Sal,  here's  a  secret  I'll  whisper  to  you,  love, 

There  is  not  a  dollar  of  cash  in  my  purse, 
I  had  a  few  dozen,  banks  bursted,  my  true  love, 

The  time  of  the  panic,  I  give  it  my  curse. 
And  both  of  my  eyes  .are  fast  fading  from  weep 
ing, 

To  think  I'm  as  poor  as   a  hungry  church 
mouse ; 

My  trouble,  dear  Sal,  whether  waking  or  sleep 
ing 

2 


18  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Is — have  you  some  traps  till  we  go  "keeping' 
house?" 

I've  a  stove,  which  was  used  many  years  by  my 
mother, 

A  wood  burner,  Sal,  with  a  fearful  exhaust ; 
Its  nozzles  I'll  open  or  else  it  will  smother, 

And  wood  is  so  dear  we  must  look  to  the  cost. 
A  bedstead  and  bed,  love,  a  pail  and  a  ladle  ; 
.  A  few  earthen  dishes,  and  coffee  pot,  too  ; 
And,  darling- !  I've  also  the  family  cradle, 

As  useful  to-day  as  when  first  it  was  new. 

A  heart  that  loves  work,  and   two  hands   to 
assist,  love, 

Beside  what  I've  mentioned  above  in  detail, 
If  you  have  the  rest,  then  I  pray  don't  desist, 
love, 

Until  under  color's  of  wedlock  we  sail. 
My  brothers  all  say  in  our  noble  Division, 

Considering-  your  wishes  for  One- Fifty-Two, 
They'll  vote  a  donation,  make  ample  provision, 

To  testify  all  their  g-ood  feeling-s  for  you. 

And  now  in  conclusion,  my  true  love  eternal 
I  send  to  you  Sal,  beloved  of  my  life, 

Soon  all  my  dear  brothers  can  read  in  the  Journal 
Another    who'll   sig-n  herself  : — "  Engineer's 
wife." 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  19 

They'll  know,  after  reading-,  you're  really  con 
tented, 
They  never  need  pause  your  dear  name  to 

enquire, 

For,  darling-,  you'll  tell  them  you  never  repented 
The  day  you  became  Mrs.  Shandy  Mag-uire. 


THE   DYING   PEASANT. 

Old  wife,  come  sit  beside  me  now, 

For  I  can  scarcely  see 
The  sadness  stamped  upon  your  brow, 

Nor  mingle  tears  with  thee. 
The  fount  is  dried,  the  lids  are  seared 

From  keen  and  constant  pain, 
The  worst  has  come,  what  oft  I  feared, 

Though  seldom  did  complain. 

The  moments  of  my  life  are  brief, 

Its  tide  is  ebbing-  fast, 
And  death  will  quickly  bring  relief, 

From  all  my  ills  at  last. 
But  you  will  have  to  linger  on, 

Within  this  vale  of  woe, 
Alone,  dear  wife,  when  I  am  g'one, 

For  God  has  willed  it  so. 


20  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  now  am  bless'd  with  inward  gaze, 

And  thing-s  long  passed  I  spy ; 
For  death  dispels  the  mental  haze, 

Obscuring  times  gone  by. 
I  now  behold  the  little  cot, 

Beside  the  winding  stream, 
Where  first  my  eyes  beheld  you,  love, 

Like  angels  in  a  dream. 

Oh,  we  were  young  and  happy  then, 

And  knew  not  what  was  care, 
Our  little  world  was  bounded  by 

That  valley  bright  and  fair  ; 
The  humble  church  where  we  were  wed, 

Before  me  seems  to  glide, 
Where  to  the  altar  rail  I  led, 

You,  my  own  blooming  bride. 

For  years  I  tilled  the  fruitful  sod, 

And  all  our  labors  throve, 
In  thanks  we  turned  our  hearts  to  God, 

And  render'd  Him  our  love. 
Content  and  plentjr  were  our  share 

Beside  the  river  Nore, 
Good  health,  true  friends,  and  prospects  fair, 

Could  mortals  ask  for  more  ? 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  21 

The  sky-lark's  song-  to  matins  called 

Our  dear  domestic  band, 
Each  heart,  with  piety  enthralPd, 

Sang-  praises  pure  and  grand. 
The  thrush  and  linnet  told  when  noon 

Had  come  within  the  glade ; 
The  nightingales,  in  jo3Tous  tune, 

Made  glad  the  evening-  shade. 

Thus  seasons  passed,  dear  wife,  and  we 

Ne'er  felt  the  march  of  time. 
Each  day  we  labored  faithfully, 

In  youth's  contented  prime. 
We  garnered  in  each  fruitful  crop, 

Our  kind  Creator  sent, 
And  found  no  trouble  saving-  up 

Our  greedy  landlord's  rent. 

So,  wife,  the  years  moved  on  apace, 

Our  efforts  seemed  to  thrive, 
And  happiness  beamed  from  each  face 

Within  that  cozy  hive  ; 
Until  the  famine  years  came  on 

And  scattered  death  around, 
Their  baneful  touch  was  laid  upon 

The  crops  within  the  ground. 


22  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Our  frugal  savings  helped  to  stay 

The  wolf  without  the  door ; 
But  constant  drain  soon  stole  away 

Our  little  treasured  store. 
The  heartless  tramp  of  marching-  men, 

Smote  painful  on  our  ears, 
They  came  to  drive  us  from  the  glen 

That  sheltered  us  for  years. 

Oh,  God  !  how  hard  to  leave  the  spot 

We  labored  in  so  long, 
To  see  the  little  vine-clad  cot, 

Wherein  we  reared  our  young — 
Pulled  down  to  satisfy  the  greed 

Of  him  who  owned  the  soil, 
Who  scorned  us  in  such  direful  need, 

Unrecompensed  our  toil. 

We  gathered  close  our  little  band 

And  took  a  last  farewell, 
Of  our  afflicted,  native  land, 

No  longer  there  to  dwell. 
The  tendrils  of  our  hearts  which  twined 

Around  our  little  home, 
Were  rudely  plucked  by  hands  unkind, 

And  we  from  there  did  roam. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  23 

Beneath  Atlantic's  restless  waves, 

Our  tender  offspring1  sleep, 
Unmarked  the  spot,  wherein  their  graves, 

Are  'neath  the  briny  deep. 
They  roll  with  many  victims  more 

Of  landlord's  cruel  work, 
All  driven  from  their  native  shore, 

But  never  reached  New  York. 

The  climate  here  is  hard  to  bear, 

Though  plenty  can  be  found, 
By  those  inured  to  biting  air, 

When  wintry  days  come  round. 
We  always  had  good  friends  and  true, 

To  help  us  in  our  need, 
They'll  prove  the  same,  dear  wife,  to  you, 

When  from  this  earth  I'm  freed. 

Dear  Mary,  place  your  hand  in  mine, 

I'm  young  and  strong  once  more, 
I'll  lead  you  back  in  youthful  prime, 

Beside  the  sparkling  Nore ; 
We'll  hear  the  linnet's  tuneful  notes, 

The  sky-lark's  merry  song, 
Our  Irish  birds,  whose  joyous  throats, 

Make  music  all  day  long.  » 


24  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Ah  !  here's  our  little  vine-clad  cot, 

Where  trellised  flowers  bloom, 
And  here's  the  dear,  delightful  spot, 

I  stood  a  happy  groom. 
But  where  are  our  three  children,  dear, 

Who  made  our  lives  so  gay  ? 
Alas  !  I  cannot  find  them  here  ; 

Good  wife,  they're  out  at  play. 

They're  calling  me  to  join  their  pranks. 

I'll  leave  you  for  awhile, 
To  sport  with  them  on  primrose  banks, 

In  this  our  native  isle. 
A  smile  upon  his  features  stole, 

His  days  of  life  were  o'er, 
For  angels  took  his  sinless  soul, 

Where  parting  is  no  more. 


TO  THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF 

LOCOMOTIVE  ENGINEERS. 
Sobriety  stands  as  our  motto  the  first, 

And  ever  by  us  must  be  cherished  ; 
Remember,dear  brothers,  intemperanceiscursed, 

And  thousands,  by  drinking,  have  perished. 
Touch  it  not — taste  it  not — handle  not  then 

The  cause  of  much  sadness  and  weeping,  . 
But  true  to  our  motto,  we'll  prove  ourselves  men, 

And  future  rewards  wre']l  be  reaping. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  25 

Sobriety,  beautiful  gem  of  my  soul ! 

While  life  has  a  thought  worth  possessing, 
I'll  prize  thee,  and  keep  thee  within  my  control, 

And  give  thee  my  fondest  caressing ; 
I'll  shield  thee  from  all  that  tempestuous  crew 

In  Alcohol's  stormy  dominions ;     . 
I'll  bear  thee  aloft  through  the  firmament's  blue 

When  departing  on  fetterless  pinions. 

Dear  brothers,  a  glance  will  suffice  to  discern 

The  wrecks  on  life's  river  now  sailing, 
Swept  on  by  the  tide  to  that  mournful  bourne, 

Companioned  by  weeping  and  wailing. 
So  touch  not  the  cup  that  is  garnished  with  crime, 

The  cause  of  wide-spread  desolation ; 
Although  it  may  beckon  with  gestures  sublime, 

Concealed  in  its  depths  there's  damnation. 

Aloft  then  our  banner  we'll  wave  to  the  sky, 

And  rally  around  it  like  true  men ; 
The  public  pays  tribute  to  those  who  can  die 

When  sober,  on  duty,  like  you  men. 
Our  Brotherhood,  then  will  survive  ev'ry  shock, 

Erected  on  such  a  foundation, 
And  stand  through  the  future,  its  base  on  that 
rock, 

And  pointing  us  on  to  salvation. 


26  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "OLD  TAR'S  TWISTERS. 

(MR.  JAMES  CROXLEY.) 

Dear  Jim  : — My  rude,  untutor'd  quill 
Cuts  many  a  quaint  and  curious  caper, 

Because  I  seek  its  aid,  to  fill 
This  ample  page  of  foolscap  paper. 

Old  friend,  I've  hesitated  long- 
To  tell  you  truly  and  sincerely, 

In  honest  lines  of  simple  song1, 

I  love  your  "Old  Tar's  Twisters"  dearly. 

Those  happy,  halcyon  days  of  yore, 

When  "Jolly  Jack,"  with  flying-  colors, 
In  every  port  could  jump  ashore, 

His  pockets  lined  with  scores  of  dollars. 
Alas !  they're  fading-  fast  away ; 

In  fact,  they've  left  us  altogether, 
And  only  God  himself  can  say, 

If  ever  more  we'll  meet  fair  weather. 

Those  by-g-one-days,  when  freig-hts  were  high, 

And  owners  all  wore  smiling  faces, 
When  royals  proudly  swept  the  sky, 

And  shipping-masters  would  embrace  us, 
To  go  with  Captain  "  This  "  or  "  That," 

Who'd  sail  at  noon,  or  maybe  sooner, 
Although  a  meditative  rat, 

Would  rather  starve  than  join  the  schooner. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  27 

Indeed,  those  were  the  happy  days — 

They'll  many  think  we  write  in  fable — 
When  telling-  how  we'd  bend  in  praise 

Our  knees  beneath  an  owner's  table, 
To  masticate  a  turkey-roast ; 

No  epicure  could  e'er  surpass  us, 
When  stowing-  tiers  of  quail  on  toast, 

Or  "duff"  and  New  Orleans  molasses. 

We  kept  the  weather-side  of  care, 

We  also  kept  ourselves  quite  jolly; 
We  clapt  a  stopper  on  despair, 

And  took  a  reef  in  melancholy. 
A  boats'n's  nip,  or  maybe  two, 

Would  ease  all  pain  and  start  the  chorus  ; 
Then,  let  the  skies  be  black  or  blue, 

We  were  the  boys  for  work  before  us  ! 

But  times  have  chang-ed,  and  so  have  we, 
I  caug'ht  the  flood- tide  of  reform. 

You  also,  Jim,  forsook  the  sea, 

And  in  the  sanctum  braves  the  storm. 

But  till  life's  tide  shall  cease  to  flow- 
Till  through  the  pipe  the  cable  started 

To  moor  us  in  the  watch  below — 
We'll  ne'er  forg-et  those  days  departed. 


28  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

A  REPLY  TO  "MOLLIE  BAWN." 
"Mollie  Bawn,"  with  delight  I  did  lately  peruse 
The  musical  lines  from  your  eloquent  muse ; 
I  said  to  myself  :  "  My  dear  Shandy  'tis  wrong- 
To  give  no  response  to  that  sweet  little  song- ;" 
So  down  in  the  ink  goes  my  stub  of  a  quill 
To  tell  you  that  I  am  a  bachelor  still ; 
But  you  and  myself  on  life's  course  cannot  run, 
Because  you  replied  you  just  "answered  for  fun." 

Besides,  my  dear  Mollie,  your  notions  are  queer, 
I  don't  think  you'd  wed  with  a  poor  engineer ; 
To  come  to  Oswego  you  say  is  too  far, 
Unless  I'd  be  willing  to  charter  a  car. 
Ah  !  Mollie,  my  heart  is  a  fountain  of  love, 
And  sure  as  the  sunlight  is  shining  above, 
If  you  but  consented  with  me  to  reside, 
A  drawing-room  coach  I'd  have  sent  for  my  bride. 

But,  Mollie,  be  serious,  'tis  not  your  desire 
To  ever  become  Mrs.  Shandy  Maguire ; 
Your  nom  deplumehides  you  securely  and  clever, 
My  rollicking  brother  of  throttle  and  lever. 
'Tis  truth  I  am  telling — I'll  tell  somewhat  more, 
Yourself  and  myself  have  met  somewhere  before. 
Am  I   right,   Mollie   dear?   "why  of  course," 

you'll  reply, 
And  I  know  you're  too  cute  to  be  caught  in  a  lie. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  29 

Well,  "Mollie,"  a  glance  retrospective  I'll  throw, 
To  that  heautiful  land  where  the  orange  trees 

grow ; 
Where  the  mocking-  bird  warbles   in  carols  of 

love, 
To  his  mate  that  responds  from  the  branches 

above. 
Where  the  sweetest  of  flowers  ne'er  cease  in 

their  bloom, 

Embalming-  the  air  with  delicious  perfume ; 
Where  the  song-sters,  melodious,  awoke  me  at 

dawn, 
Perhaps  it  was  there  we  have  met,   "Mollie 

Bawn." 

If  so,  those  were  days  that  I  fain  would  recall, 
When  the  chalice  of  life  had  no  mixture  of  gall. 
Ere  the  ten-per-cent-off  swept  the  land  in  dismay, 
A  cruel  reduction  of  hard  earned  pay— 
Ere  the  Juggernaut  wheels  of  the  panic  were 

rolled, 

To  crush  us  by  gamblers,  too  greedy  for  gold  ; 
Ere  the  clouds  of  oppression  cast  sadness  and 

gloom, 
O'er  the  men  oft  obliged  to  make  duty  a  tomb. 

But  the  sun  of  the  future,  bright  hope  whispers, 

soon, 
In  splendor  will  shine,  as  on  midsummer's  noon. 


30  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

No  gamblers,  "Mollie,"  can  hoard  up  a  ray, 
Of  the  glorious  sunlight  that  brightens  our  way. 
Whoever  you  are,  your  advice  I'll  retain, 
And  always  endeavor  to  run  the  right  train. 
I  hope  you  and  I,  when  life's  journey  is  o'er, 
Will  be  told  we're  "on  time"  on  eternity's  shore. 


A  WELCOME  TO  THE  "HOUSEHOLD  VISITOR." 

The  H.  V.  is  welcome,  thrice  welcome  once  more, 
To  the  homes  and  the  hearts  it  did  visit  of  yore  ; 
It  comes  newly  dress'd,  and  glad  tidings  does 

bring ; 
'Tis  as  welcome  as  birds  that  arrive  with  the 

Spring. 

It  announces  that  trade  is  reviving  once  more, 
The  white  wings  of  commerce  now  visit  our  shore; 
And  last,  though  not  least,  the  good  news  it  has 

spread, 
That  dear' Doctor  Reynolds  is  living,  not  dead. 

Ah,  doctor,  I  cried  till  my  heart  nearly  broke, 
When  I  heard  you  were  dead,  now  I  laugh  at 

the  joke. 

I  feared  I  should  wander  the  rest  of  my  life, 
All  alone,  with  no  hope  of  becoming  your  wife. 
You  know  that  you  swore  by  the  angels  above, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  31 

No  woman  but  me  should  be  crowned  with  your 

love ; 
Tis  leap-year,  and  now  my  just  rights  I  shall 

claim — 
Come  forward  and  make  Mrs.  Reynolds  my  name. 

"  Petticoat  government "  now  is  the  cry, 

For  Woodhull  and  Spottedtail,  banners  do  fly  ; 

So,  come  and  I'll  train  you,  respond  to  my  call ; 

Victoria  will  be  elected  this  Fall. 

She'll  give  you  a  place  through  influence  of  me ; 

A  City  Physician  no  longer  you'll  be. 

Now  marry  me,  doctor,  if  not  I'm  afraid, 

Your  darling-  will  linger  and  die  an  old  maid. 

Dear  editor,  speak  to  the  doctor,  asthore  ! 
And  I'll  purchase  my  house-keeping  ware  at  your 

store ; 

My  wall  paper,  window  shades,  candies  and  toys, 
For  our  dear  little  babies,  our  girls  and  our  boys, 
I  am  certain  you  keep  the  best  stock  in  the  town ; 
Besides  you  sell  cheapest,  your  prices  are  down  ; 
There's  one  thing  deficient  to  bless  you  in  life, 
You're  just  like  the  doctor — in  need  of  a  wife. 


32  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

A  WELCOME  TO  THE  JOURNAL. 

Dear  Editor  :  Here  is  the  Journal  at  hand, 

For  April,  freighted  with  treasures  in  store, 
From  many  good  writers  all. over  the  land, 

From  Mexico's  gulf  to  Ontario's  shore ; 
From  Maine  to  the  far  distant  Pacific  slope 

Contributors  many  this  month  can  he  seen 
Expressing  contentment,  new  courage,  and  hope, 

For  the  trio  who're  named  Arthur,  Ingraham 
and  Greene. 

Your  pardon,  dear  Sirs,  for  presuming  to  write, 

My  Muse  she  insists  unattuned  I  must  sing, 
The  jade  is  now  off  in  a  fanciful  flight, 

Although  she  ne'er  tasted  the  Helicon  spring. 
The  fear  of  the  past  for  our  future's  success 

Is  lost  in  the  sunbeam  of  Unity's  ray ; 
The  prayers  of  the  widows  and  orphans  will  bless 

The  men  who  preside  o'er  our  Union  to-day. 

Brother  Arthur,  the  party  that  bade  you  "good 
bye" 

In  Syracuse  depot,  are  tried  men  and  true, 
And  fondly  we  noted  the  glance  of  your  eye 
When  you  said :    "At  all  hazards,  my  duty 

I'll  do." 
Abe  Shoemaker,  Colbourne,  Carroll,  the  three, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  33 

Declared  every  word  you  expressed    you'd 

make  good, 
With  hope  in  each  bosom  we  parted  in  glee, 

And  soon  you  were  hurried  away  by  "Jim" 
Wood. 

Our  object  is  truly  enobling,  I'm  sure, 

Truth,  justice,  and  honor,  are  links  in  our  chain. 
Oh  !  ills  upon  ills  may  those  traitors  endure, 

Who'd  seek  to  destroy  us  or  cut  us  in  twain. 
But  if  in  the  course  of  events,  'twould  be  found, 

That  enemies  e're  should  be  met  on  our  track, 
Do  not  yield  up  an  inch  of  our  dearly  loved  ground, 

Remember  the  army  of  boys  at  your  back. 

Now  Spring  has  returned  to  cheer  us  once  more, 

And  here  is  a  gem  which  I  found  in  her  train  : 
"Put  the  engineer's  wages  the  same  as  of  yore," 

That  means,  my  dear  Sirs,  ten-per-cent  back 

again. 
So,  "down  in  the  corner"  I'll  hie  me  along, 

And  pay  every  cent  to  the  Brotherhood  due ; 
Besides,  I  will  sing  a  short  verse  of  a  song, 

Not  heard  since  the  panic  in  One-Fifty-Two. 

To  Garryowen  Mike,  ere  I  close,  I  will  say, 
A  cead  millie  failthe  awaits  you,  my  boy, 

When  here  you'll  visit,  all  crowned  from  the  frav, 

3 


34  SHANDY   MAGUIKE. 

Which  made  you  a  victor,  in  railroad  employ ; 
Be  sure  your  old  Baldwin  is  burnished  and  brig-lit 

And  cheerfully  grant  every  little  request 
Of  him  who  the  throttle-valve  pulls  on  the  right, 

Then  soon  you'll  be  sporting-  a  B  on  your  breast. 

To  climb  by  gradations  is  better  by  far 

Than  to  step  on  the  deck  theoretic'lly  wise ; 
Good  practical  knowledge  is  always  at  par, 

What  experience  teaches  don't  ever  despise. 
Now  hurry  along-  to  Ontario's  shore, 

When  you  get  to  Osweg-o  blow  brakes  and 

enquire, 
And  soon  you'll  be  shown  an  hospitable  door, 

With  one  who  will  greet  you  called — Shandy 
Maguire. 


A  PRAYER. 

Oh,  Lord,  'tis  seldom  that  my  heart 

Was  known  to  seek  thy  aid ; 
But  let  affliction  pour  its  smart, 

How  soon  a  change  is  made  ! 
I  need  no  intermediate  one 

To  supplicate  for  me, 
Prostrated  here  before  Thy  throne 

I  kneel  in  prayer  to  Thee. 


SHANDY   MAGUIKE.  35 

The  churchmen  tell  'tis  your  desire 

That  they  should  intercede, 
To  save  us  from  Your  dreadful  ire — 

It  is  a  selfish  creed. 
I  don't  believe  such  doctrines,  Lord, 

For  when  on  earth  You  came, 
You  mingled  in,  with  full  accord, 

Amongst  the  blind  and  lame. 

Cathedral  spires  may  grandly  rise, 

And  bells  with  joyous  peal, 
May  penetrate  the  vaulted  skies, 

With  fervid  human  zeal ; 
But  reason  taught  me  long-  ago 

That  from  this  breast  of  mine, 
My  thoughts  in  penitential  flow, 

Can  reach  Thy  throne  divine. 

You  ne'er  intended  wealth  should  buy 

Our  everlasting  weal ; 
Yet  oft  on  earth  unshrived  we  lie, 

And  pierced  by  churchmen's  steel, 
Who  barter  all  your  graces  here 

With  parsimonious  greed, 
Where  we  must  buy  salvation  dear, 

Confined  in  chains  to  creed. 


3G  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

You  gave  us  air  and  water  free, 

And  made  the  earth  to  bloom, 
For  which  we  left  our  hearts  to  thee 

From  out  sectarian  gloom. 
Abroad  among-  the  fields  and  flowers 

Thy  wondrous  ways  we  trace, 
Oh,  grant  among"  celestial  bowers, 

I  may  behold  thy  face. 

Now,  Lord,  my  simple  prayer  attend, 

And  guide  my  wayward  life  ; 
Be  thou  my  father  and  my  friend, 

Shield  all  my  days  from  strife ; 
And  when  Your  wisdom  shall  decide 

That  I  from  earth  must  flee, 
Oh,  grant  I'll  ever  more  reside, 

Dear  Lord,  in  sight  of  Thee.     « 


IN   MEMORIAM— PHILLIP  DOYLE. 

Dear  friend  thou  wert  called  in  thy  youth  and 
thy  bloom, 

To  go  over  the  mournful  bourne ; 
Many  kind  friends  will  lament  thee  in  gloom, 
Tears  sad  and  silent  we'll  shed  on  thy  tomb, 

From  whence  thou  canst  never  return. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  37 

Heaven,  thy  mercy  send  down,  we  implore, 

To  comfort  each  sister  and  brother ; 
And  send  that  bereaved  one  a  bountiful  store, 
Who  suffered  her  share  of  affliction  before — 
His  heart-broken,  poor,  widowed  mother. 

Though  clad  in  the  garments  of  deep-seated  woe, 
Her  duty  she  nobly  performed ; 

She  taught  his  young  footsteps  the  way  they 

should  go, 

Her  feelings  maternal  were  thankful  to  know 
That  virtue  his  pathway  adorned. 

At  parting  we  murmured  in  accents  sincere, 

For  God  to  protect  him  from  danger ; 
Then  sadly  we  bade  him  farewell,  with  a  tear, 
And  now,  to  behold  him  come  back  on  his  bier, 
From  the  far  distant  land  of  the  stranger. 

In  that  far-away  land  'tis  consoling  to  think 

That  brother  was  vieing  with  brother, 
Fraternally  bound  by  a  mystical  link, 
Who'd  fain  WTOO  him  back  from  eternity's  brink, 
To  gladden  the  life  of  his  mother. 

But  Death  to  the  mark  was  unerring  and  true, 

In  the  noon  of  his  youth  he  departed ; 
Yet  death  had  no  terrors  exposed  to  the  view 


38  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

For  him  who  from  childhood  his  duty  did  do 
To  her  who  is  now  broken-hearted. 

Sorrowful  tears  on  his  grave  we  shall  strew, 
Forget  our  dear  friend  we  shall  never. 

Tho'  the  vail  of  the  tomb  now  conceals  from  our 
view, 

All  that  remain  to  us  mortal  of  you, 
Ytm'll  live  in  our  hearts,  Phil,  forever. 


DECLINING  ALDERMANIC  HONORS. 

Mr.  Editor  :  Grant  me  a  limited  space, 

Till  I  publish  a  little  denial ; 
Many  boys  have  me  pulled  in  a  very  tight  place. 

And  condemn  me  without;  any  trial. 
Wherever  I  go  they  keep  poking  their  fun — 

If  you  doubt  me  ask  Teddy  McCarthy — 
They  say  I  must  not  for  an  Alderman  run 

In  our  tidal-wave  Democrat  party. 

One  very  great  reason  these  "kickers"  advanced 
Why  my  nag  should  be  ruled  from  the  race,  sir, 

"He's  a  railroader  now."  For  that  crime  I'd  be 

pranced 
'Neath  the  hoofs  of  the  rest  in  disgrace,  sir. 

God  help  us  !  I  thought  a  man  toiling  for  bread. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  39 

If  he  truly  and  honestly  labors, 
Could  stand  up  erect,  could  uncover  his  head, 
And  be  peer  to  his  proudest  of  neighbors  ! 

Should  I  measure  my  strength  with  opponents, 
I'm  sure, 

When  the  votes  in  the  box  would  be  tallied, 
That  an  Alderman's  chair  I  could  sit  in  secure, 

That  the  boys  of  the  ward  round  me  rallied. 
By  remaining-  away  I'll  have  frolic  galore ! 

And  I  hope  you'll  not  think  me  uncivil 
By  saying1 :  "I  don't  care  where  runs  the  Lake 
Shore, 

And  the  Ellen  Street  bridge  to  the  devil !  " 

Considering  the  number  of  nags  on  the  track, 

'Tis  hard  to  tell  which  one  will  answer  ; 
For  each  is  a  played-out,  political  hack, 

And  an  old,  spavined,  blustering  prancer. 
Down  amongst  the  spectators  I'm  going  to  stand, 

It  is  there  I'll  feel  jovial  and  hearty ; 
And  the  nag  that's  in  first  I  will  pat  with  my  hand, 

On  the  Bloomingdale  road  of  the  party. 

Mr.  Page,  'tis  to  you  I  would  briefly  suggest, 

In  my  broadest  of  broad  nomenclature, 
And  I  hope  you'll  bring  forward  this  little  request 


40  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Up  before  our  New  York  legislature  : 
"All  the  blocks  of  the  Fifth  into  wards  must  be 
made." 

Or,  if  not,  the  whole  city  will  scoff  us, 
We  all  hanker  so  much  for  the  Alderman's  trade, 

And  one-tenth  of  us  then  may  get  office. 


TO  ANGELINE  S. 

Miss  Angeline  S.,  don't  you  think  it  is  time 
To  send  a  response  to  your  sweet  little  rhyme  ? 
It  thrilled  me,  it  filled  me  with  pleasure  all  o'er, 
I  cherished  it  up  in  my  heart's  dearest  core, 
To  think  that  a  lady  possessed  of  your  charms 
Will  fold  me  for  life  in  your  beautiful  arms, 
And  make  me  the  paramount  lord  of  your  purse 
When  once  we're  united  for  better  or  worse. 

Lamenting1  in  sorrow,  long  years  I  delayed, 
Too  bashful  to  woo,  and  to  win  a  fair  maid, 
Deficient  in  courage,  both  luckless  and  poor, 
What  maid  such  a  fool  of  a  man  could  endure  ? 
But  you,  like  an  angel  sent  down  from  above, 
Spread  o'er  me  the  wings  of  affection  and  love, 
And  made  my  heart  buoyant  and  light   as  a 

feather 
To  know  we  will  jog  on  life's  railroad  together. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  41 

What  is  beauty  ?  I  care  not  a  fig,  my  dear  girl, 
If  your  head  could'nt  boast  of  a  ring-let  or  curl ; 
If  your  eyes  stood  at  angles  of  ninety  degrees  ; 
If  your  tongue  was  incessantly  running  to  tease  ; 
If  your  nose  was  a  pug,  with  the  top  of  it  red ; 
If  your  sweet  little  mouth  semi-circled  your  head ; 
In  fact,  I  don't  care  how  your  features  appear, 
So  long  as  a  carriage  you  ride  in,  my  dear. 

I  hope  my  appearance  won't  give  you  much  care  ; 

Of  beauty  I  have  but  a  miserly  share ; 

I'm  an  only  son,  in  her  moments  of  joy, 

My  mother  oft  called  me  "her  handsomest  boy." 

She  suffered  with  fear  least  her  darling  would 

smother, 

By  ladies  embracing  the  son  of  my  mother. 
I  wish  the  dear  creatures  would  take  my  advice, 
And  continue,  its  naughty,  folks  say,  but  its  nice. 

I'm  off  for  Fort  Wayne  when  I  draw  my  next  pay, 
I'll  visit  some  friends  whom  I  know  on  the  way. 
Be  sure  in  your  coach  to  the  station  you'll  ride 
To  meet  me,  and  give  me  a  seat  at  your  side. 
I  feel  as  if  fortune,  so  hard  in  the  past, 
Was  turning  around  in  my  favor  at  last. 
No  longer  I'll  suffer  the  pangs  of  distress, 
When  spending  your  ducats,  Miss  Angeline  S. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

TO  W.   B.   PHELPS. 

(On  being  presented  with  a  set  of  beautiful  razors.) 

How  oft  with  microscopic  glance 

In  mid-teens  I  my  chin  did  scan, 
In  search  of  stunted  down's  advance, 

Which  would  denote  the  future  man. 
And  when  a  stra.y,  forlorn  hair 
Did  bless  my  persevering-  stare, 
The  razor  of  my  sire  I  stole ; 
In  boyish  glee  beyond  control 
I  sought  an  unfrequented  place, 
My  trembling1  hand  went  o'er  my  face, 
No  mirror  back  my  visage  gave, 
It  was  my  first,  my  maiden  shave ; 
Your  retrospective  glance  may  tell 
Py  like  experience  what,  befell ; 
If  eiglit  old  cats,  I  truly  swear, 

Played  hide  and  seek  round  each  jawbone, 
Or  danced  a  modern  lanciers  there, 

Their  claws  would  have  more  mercy  shown. 

And  next  in  years  of  riper  growth, 
Till  yesterday  at  manhood's  noon, 

I  must  confess  to  many  an  oatli 
I  stifled,  sir,  at  features  hewn. 

1   slashed,  and   scraped,  and    strapped,  and 
moaned, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  43 

I  lathered,  rubbed,  I  tugged,  and  honed ; 
The  thousand  angry  tears  I  shed, 
The  million  crimson  drops  I  bled, 
If  I  could  but  recall  them  here, 

And  give  them  tongues  to  sound  your 

praise, 
They'd  thank  you,  sir,  with  words  sincere, 

In  volumes  of  immortal  lays  ! 

Your  princely  gifts  I  well  may  prize 

As  souvenirs  till  life's  decline  ; 
They  will  remind  my  gloating-  eyes 

Of  many  a  kindly  act  of  thine. 
Their  polished,  tempered,  faultless  sheen 
Glides  o'er  my  features,  smooth  and  keen  ; 
'Tis  pleasure  now  where  all  was  pain  ; 
And  ere  I  close  this  simple  strain 
Of  Heaven  one  little  gift  I  crave 
To  grant  me  here  this  side  the  grave — 
'Tis  this  :  O  Lord,  if  vandal  boor 

Should  steal,  'twixt  now  and  days  remote, 
My  beauties  bright,  send  vengeance  sure, 
And  make  them  cut  his  thievish  throat. 


44  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

TO   MIKE  OF  GARRYOWEN. 

Friend  Michael :  I  have  a  spare  moment  or  two. 
And  cheerfully  now  I'll  devote  them  to  you. 
My  memory  points  me  a  beautiful  giade, 
'Tis  canopied  o'er  by  an  evergreen  shade  ; 
There  I'll  convey  you,  my  brother  in  rhyme, 
The  strings  of  my  harp  into  tune  I  will  chime. 
I'll  sing-  you  a  brief  little  sketch  of  my  life 
And  the  luck  I  have  met  advertising-  a  wife. 

In  youth  I  was  orphaned ;  no  kindred  came  near 
To  soothe  me  in  sorrow  or  stay  the  sad  tear, 
When  grown  up  to  manhood  I  thought  of  a  wife 
To  help  me  to  climb  up  the  grades  of  this  life  ; 
Some  dear  little  maiden,  a  sly  little  elf, 
With  no  other  failing  than  loving  myself ; 
To  lift  from  my  shoulders  toil's  wearisome  load, 
When  home  I'd  return  from  a  day  on  the  road. 

That's  why  in  the  Journal  I  fished  for  a  mate. 
A  bouncing  grass-widow  kept  nibbling  the  bait. 
She  wrote  me  :  "Dear  Shandy,  in  sadness  I  mourn 
"The  absence  of  one  who  is  slow  to  return. 
"But  why  should  I  longer  lament  him  in  tears  ? 
"Come  wed  me  and  father  my  twro  little  dears." 
I'd  like  to  comply,  but  my  mother  of  yore 
Cried :  Shandy,  beware  of  grass-widows,  asthore  ! 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  45 

Success  on  occasions  seemed  hovering-  nigh, 
My  heart  then  dilated  with  hope-beaming-  joy, 
When  "Salsie"  with  promises  swreetly  expressed, 
Averred  she  adored  me  the  dearest  and  best. 
I  flew  to  the  g-arret  on  pinions  of  love 
In  search  of  my  bedding,  chairs,  cradle  and  stove. 
Some  friends  at  our  wedding  I  then  did  invite, 
But  "Salsie"  soon  ended  my  dream  of  delight. 

"Mollie  Bawn"  was  the  next  urg-ed  me  on  to 

revealing 

A  kind  of  a,  sort  of  a  Benedict  feeling-. 
I  made  all  arrangements  to  speedily  wed  her ; 
The  rest  of  my  life  I  would  run  double-header. 
Ah  !  surely,  I  thought,  'tis  a  glorious  selection, 
This  fair  one  must  be  the  full  type  of  perfection. 
Alas  !  I  discovered  the  greatest  of  folly 
In  trying  to  capture  a  maiden  like  "Mollie." 

Now  last,  though  not  least,  well,  in  fact  what  I'd 

call 

My  heartless  deceiver — Queen  Bee  of  them  all. 
Miss  Angeline  S.  left  me  stricken  with  pain  ; 
She's  possessed  of  a  fortune  and  lives  in  Fort 

Wayne. 

To  the  hill-top  of  hope  on  love's  wrings  did  I  g-o, 
But  the  fickle  jade's  silence  soon  dashed  me  below. 


4(3  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Dear  Michael,  her  reasons  are  easily  seen, 
She  rides  in  a  carriage,  I  on  a  McQueen. 

But  why  should  your  humble  admirer  despair, 
Whose  negligent  curls  have  not  a  gray  hair  ? 
While  life  lasts,  there's  hope,  and  if  luck's  at  my 

side, 

Surely  sooner  or  later  I'll  capture  a  bride. 
But  Michael,  there's  one  at  my  elbow  who  says  : 
"All  bigamists  pay  for  their  amorous  ways." 
So,  between  you  and  I,  the  state  prison  I'll  shun, 
Though  the  brothers  insist  I  must  keep  up  the  fun. 

****** 
I  see  you  are  one  of  that  brave-hearted  band, 
Whom  a  traitor  has  scattered  all  over  the  land. 
"Tis  better  to  be  found  on  the  side  that  is  right, 
Than  to  pander  and  kneel  to   oppression   and 

might ; 

'Tis  better  to  be  poor  and  be  hopeful  in  God, 
Than  to  bow  down  and  kiss  a  tyrannical  rod  ; 
'Tis  better  in  rags  to  plod  on  to  the  grave, 
Than  to  meekly  submit  to  be  scourged  as  a  slave. 

But  why  should  I  longer  this  subject  pursue  ? 
'Tis  gone  to  oblivion,  away  from  our  view  ; 
If  .further  I'd  chime  on  such  dissonant  strings, 

Brothers  Arthur  and  Greene  would  be  clipping 
mv  wings. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  47 

Rig-lit  here  at  Oswego  they  paid  us  a  call, 
And  departed  with  hearty  good  wishes  for  all. 
My  regards  to  you,  Mike,  till  existence  doth  end 
I  shall  always  be  proud  to  be  classed  as  your 
friend. 


"PATIENCE." 

'Tis  easy  to  preach  about  patience, 

For  those  who  have  freedom  from  ills, 
When  dealing-  out  sympathy  freely, 

To  victims  of  fevers  and  chills  ; 
'Tis  easy  to  preach  about  patience 

For  those  who  have  naught  but  a  sneer 
To  give  to  the  wretch  who  is  tortured 

With  pains  at  the  butt  of  his  ear. 

How  eloquent,  fluent,  and  freely 

Their  tide  of  glib  sayings  roll  out, 
To  soothe  the  poor  victim  when  howling- 

With  terrible  twists  of  the  g-out ; 
Or  joints  all  aflame  with  rheumatics, 

When  up  from  the  bed  he  will  leap, 
To  hear  them  exclaim  :  "Now  be  patient, 

Lie  still  and  g-o  gently  to  sleep." 

With  pains  of  neuralgia  thumping 
Your  nerves  w  ith  big  sledge-hammer  blows. 


48  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Or  chronic  catarrh  persecuting- 
Your  features,  distorting1  your  nose. 

'Tis  easy  to  preach  about  patience 
For  those  with  demoniac  grins, 

Who  tell  3^ou  such  torture  was  given 
As  certain  atonement  for  sins. 

Some  toothaches  most  surely  will  bother 

The  wisest  in  surgical  lore, 
No  matter  how  gently  their  forceps 

Will  touch  you,  in  pain  you  will  roar ; 
And  yet  some  old  midwife  or  other 

Will  laugh  at  the  nerve  you  display, 
When  \vrenched  till  your  eyeballs  are  start 
ing 

From  blood-colored  sockets  away. 

Be  patient  the  preachers  keep  telling 

Poor  souls  without  clothing  or  food, 
When  rolling  in  richest  of  broadcloth, 

And  aping  a  sanctified  mood. 
They'll  feed  you  on  texts  from  the  Scriptures, 

And  ask  why  you  dare  to  complain, 
While  at  the  same  time  they're  regaling 

On  porter-house  steak  and  champagne. 

Oh,  out  on  such  hypocrite  swaddlers, 
Who  travel  palavering  round, 


SHANDY    MAGUIRE. 

To  deal  out  their  stock  of  set  phrases 
Where  ever  affliction  is  found. 

I'd  rather  have  one  touch  magnetic 
In  kindness  steal  over  my  head, 

Than  all  of  their  blatherskite  blabbing, 
Dealt  out  at  the  side  of  my  bed. 


A  TRIP  IN  CHARON'S  FERRY. 

One  night,  to  enjoy  a  few  hours  of  repose, 

I  coiled  myself  up  in  the  bed  'neath  the  clothes, 

Oblivious  alike  of  my  friends  or  my  foes, 

Right  soon  I  was  off  in  a  dream. 
I  dreamt  that  old  Charon  had  ferried  me  o'er, 
As  soon  as  his  boat  touched  the  Stygian  shore, 
"Here's  Shandy  Maguire,"  the  old  rascal  did  roar 

With  a  weird  and  unearthly  scream  ! 

Indeed,  'twas  a  burning  reception  I  got, 
The  atmosphere  there  was  oppressively  hot, 
But  the  imps  whom  I  saw  seemed  content  with 
their  lot, 

And  said  I  would  soon  be  the  same. 
Old  Pluto  came  up  and  extended  his  hand, 
He  spoke  in  a  voice  I  could  well  understand, 
"Dear  Mr.  Maguire,  I'm  at  your  command, 

Your  wish  you  have  only  to  name." 

4 


50  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

To  see  how  his  majesty  relished  a  joke, 
I  asked  for  a  pipe  and  tobacco  to  smoke, 
That  simple  request  was  a  masterly  stroke, 

His  countenance  beamed  with  a  grin. 
"Here  by  my  side  sit  at  ease  and  enjoy 
A  smoke  from  my  pipe,  you're  a  broth  of  a  boy, 
While  with  me  you  linger  none  shall  you  annoy, 

You  seldom  were  guilty  of  sin." 

His  devils  he  ordered  to  march  in  review, 
Oh,  many  were  there  in  my  life-time  I  knew  ! 
Jovial  companions  I  saw  'mongst  them  too, 

And  bachelors  mostly  I  spied  ! 
"How  is  it  I  don't  see  a  Benedict  here  ?" 
Pluto  replied  with  a  wink  and  a  leer  — 
"Poor  souls,  they  all  soar  to  a  happier  sphere  ! 
.-  They  atoned  for  their  sins  ere  they  died.  '  ' 

My  brothers  were  few,  as  the  column  passed  by, 
The  good  natured  phiz  of  "Square"  Blake  I  could 


He  gave  me  a  glance  from  his  amorous  eye, 
And  asked  for  the  news  from  above. 

I  answered  :  "your  sweet-hearts  I  tried  to  console, 

Alas  !  surely  their  grief  was  bej^ond  my  control  ; 

Together  we  prayed  for  repose  of  your  soul." 
C^uoth  Bill,  "that  was  brotherly  love," 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.       .  51 

Railroad  directors  were  there  in  galore, 
Presidents  also,  a  plentiful  store, 
Superintendents  I  saw  by  the  score, 

Beelzebub  caught  them  at  last. 
There  they  were  shackled  both  safe  and  secure, 
Placarded  "tyrants  on  earth  to  the  poor," 
Those  "ten-per-cent-off"  boys  I  could 'nt  endure 

I  closed  my  eyes  till  they  had  passed. 

I  also  discerned  some  traitors  were  there, 
A  sorrowful,  heart-rending-  look  of  despair 
All  of  the  double-dyed  villians  did  wear, 

My  pity  for  those  was  sincere. 
"Your  majesty,"  then  I  begun,  "I  would  fain 
Have  you  ease  the  poor  wretches  of  part  of  their 

pain;" 
From  a  good  hearty  laugh  Pluto  could'nt  refrain, 

He  whispered  "last  Fall"  *  in  my  ear. 

A  rollicking,  frolicking,  musical  throng, 
Uproariously  singing  a  comical  song 
Up  close  to  the  traitors  came  marching  along ; 
"Who  are  they,  your  majesty,  pray  ?" 
"Why,  Shandy,  a  few  of  the  boys  I  enrolled, 

*  This  allusion  has  reference  to  the  strikes  in  the  Fall  of  73,  when  the 
Brotherhood  was  supposed  to  have  been  betrayed  by  Chas.  Wilson,  the  Grand 
Chief.  In  support  of  the  supposition,  there  was  a  special  convention  called 
to  convene  at  Cleveland  in  February,  '874,  and  by  a  unanimous  vote  he 
was  deposed.  P.  M.  Arthur,  the  present  Grand  Chief,  was  elected  in  his 
stead.  Mr.  Arthur  is  an  intelligent,  Christian  gentleman,  and  has  the 
entire  confidence  of  the  organization,  which  he  has  successfully  controlled 
for  the  past  eleven  years. 


52  SHANDY   MAUUIRE. 

To  see  that  the  traitors  don't  suffer  with  cold  ; 
They  could'nt  be  bribed  with  position  or  gold — 
Here  "every  dog*  has  his  day." 

His  majesty's  pipe  I  returned  and  said— 
"There's  many  an  honest  man  toiling' for  bread, 
Who'll  better  his  fortune  when  once  he  is  dead." 

I  tickled  the  Governor  there. 
"If  this  is  the  region  of  brimstone  and  fire, 
You'll  find  a  good  subject  in  Shandy  Magriire." 
After  my  wants  he  begun  to  inquire, 

And  spoke  to  me  candid  and  fair. 

"Dear  Shandy,  you  always  worked  bravely  on 
earth ; 

You've  earned  your  grub  from  the  moment  of 

birth, 
You  seasoned  it,  too,  with  a  sprinkling-  of  mirth, 

And  never  bowed  down  to  despair. 
Receive  your  reward — you're  possessed  of  the 

knack 

To  oversee  imps  I  have  ballasting-  track ; 
I'm  building-  a  road  up  to  Wall  street  and  back, 
To  handle  the  traffic  from  there. 

Here  comes  your  g-ang-,  they  were  all  millionaires 
Above,  and  were  known  as  the  Bulls  and  Bears, 
They  g-ambled  in  stocks  and  they  cornered  the 
shares 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  53 

Now  take  all  of  them  you  can  find. 
Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Pluto  !  I  instantly  cried, 
"My  last  crust  of  bread  with  these  chaps  I'll 

divide." 
His  majesty  smiled,  for  he  knew  that  I  lied, 

He  read  all  the  thoughts  in  my  mind. 

I  threw  off  my  coat,  to  my  cudgel  held  fast, 
"Vengeance !"  I  cried,  "for  the  days  that  are 

passed — 
The  road  you  chaps  trod  has  an  ending1  at  last, 

Now  I  am  commencing-  my  reign"- 
Rap,  tap,  at  the  door,  I  awoke  with  a  bound, 
The  "Caller's"  rich  brogue  through  my  noddle 

did  sound : 
"Och,  Shandy,  avick !  shure  its  time  you   got 

round, 

And  don't  be  delaying  your  train  !" 


A  COLD  WATER  LYRIC. 

Let  others  sing  of  vintage  prime, 
Sparkling  brightly  in  the  cup  ; 

Imported  from  each  sunny  clime, 
For  eating  manhood's  vitals  up  ; 

But  I  will  tune  my  harp  to  praise, 

In  unpremeditated  lays, 

That  self-dem'ing,  noble  band, 


54  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

Of  honest  heart  and  friendly  hand  ; 
Who  founded  an  asylum  here, 
To  dry  the  mourner's  bitter  tear, 
And  preach  the  gospel  of  reform, 
That  will  domestic  hearths  keep  warm  ; 
Those  pioneers  of  envied  fame, 

Who  raised  the  temperance  banner  high, 
And  on  its  folds  -engrossed  each  name, 

To  float  beneath  Oswego's  sky. 

'Tis  not  in  legislative  halls, 
Surrounded  by  the  bay'nets  gleam, 

'Tis  not  in  fierce,  politic  brawls, 
Can  be  dispelled  the  drunkard's  dream. 

Experience  teaches  us  too  true, 

Coersive  measures  will  not  do. 

We've  heard  the  prohibition  cry 

Some  candidates  have  raised  on  high  ; 

How  they  would  send  us  steel-clad  laws, 

To  guard  our  noble  temperance  cause, 

With  legislative  bay'nets,  too, 

To  slaughter  all  the  drunken  crew  ! 

There  is  a  saying  in  that  isle 

Across  the  sea,  where  I  have  trod  ; 

And  where  oppressed  ones  with  a  smile 
Put  all  their  hopes  and  trust  in  God— 

"Nabocklish*"  sure,  it  is  the  trade 

*  Never  mind  them . 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  55 

Of  all  reformers  whom  we  sent, 
Soon  as  their  fortune  we  had  made, 
To  sell  us  out  in  parliament. 

But  here's  to  those,  I  fill  the  glass 

To  overflowing-  from  the  spring, 
And  round,  my  boys,  the  toast  wTill  pass, 

In  praise  of  all  whom  I  do  sing- ; 
The  brawny  sons  of  hardy  toil, 
The  noble  lords  of  ev'ry  soil, 
The  men  of  roug-h,  untutor'd  mind, 
Possessed  of  jewels  unrefined  : 
Each  one  endowed  with  nature's  fire  ; 
My  humble  Muse  would  fain  aspire 
To  trace  the  thoug-hts,  that  unexpress'd, 
Lie  sleeping-  'neath  each  russet  vest ; 
Those  noble  boys  who  raised  the  flag1 — 
No  mean,  dilapidated  rag-, — 
But  twined  around  with  mem'ries  brig-lit, 
Augmenting-  ev'ry  Monday  night, 
As  we  in  weekly  councils  meet, 
And  with  fraternal  smiling-  greet, 
Each  penitent  who  joins  the  van, 
Resolved  to  be  a  sober  man. 
Then  here's  to  them,  fill  ev'ry  glass 

To  overflowing  from  the  spring ; 
And  round,  my  boys,  the  toast  shall  pass, 

In  praise  of  all  whom  I  did  sing. 


5G  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

EXIT  SEVENTY-FOUR. 

One  evening1,  indulging  in  fond  reveries, 

Or  building-  air-castles,  whichever  you  please, 

For  know  you,  dear  reader,  I  build  with  a  wil  I 

My  castles  in  latest  of  modern  skill ; 

No  sooner  erected,  my  queen  on  her  throne, 

Than   down   they  come,   tottering-,  stone  after 

stone. 

That  nigiit  I  sat  building-,  the  hour  was  late, 
The  fire  was  flickering  low  in  the  grate, 
I  arose  to  replenish,  when  lo  !  what  a  sight 
Met  my  wondering  gaze,  put  my  heart  in  a  fright ! 
Unannounced  in  the  room  stood  a  man  on  whose 

brow 

Old  age  had  ruthlessly  cut  with  his  plow 
Deep  furrows  and  wrinkles,  decrepit  and  old, 

And  hoary  indeed,  was  the  look  of  the  stranger. 

He  shiver'd  and  shook  with  rheumatics  and  cold, 

And  looked  the  reverse  to  inspire  me  with 

danger. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  He  answered  :  "I'm  Seventy- 
Four." 

"The  devil!"  I  cried, in  amazement  and  wonder; 
"Why  did'nt  you  knock  when  you  came  to  the 

door?" 

"I  did,"  he  replied,  "hammered  louder  than 
thunder. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  57 

I  thought  you  were  dead,  but  I  found  you  were 

dreaming, 

So  cozy  and  snug1,  with  the  fire  011  you  beaming- ; 
Quit  dreaming,  my  boy,  or  you'll  find  if  you  joke 
Too  much  with  the  fire,  you'll  encounter  some 

smoke. 

I  was  loath  to  depart,  'tis  the  truth  that  I  tell, 
Till  I  came  to  embrace  you  and  bid  you  farewell. ' ' 
"To  receive  your  embraces  'tis  not  my  desire ; 
Your  sex  isn't  suited  to  Shandy  Maguire — 
And,  know  you,  old  codger,  'tis  little  I  care 
How  soon  you  set  sail  through  the  snow-laden 

air. 

I'm  just  as  you  found  me  a  twelve-month  ago, 
Still  poor,   discontented,   downhearted    and 

lonely ; 

Up  life's  rugged  grades  I  am  clambering  slow, 
Just  running  on  time  to  my  meeting  points 
only." 

"That's  why,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  have  called  here 
to-night ; 

Your  wrongs  in  the  past  I  have  closely  scanned 

over ; 

Ere  parting,  I  mean  to  adjust  them  all  right, 
And  leave  you  behind  me  knee  deep  in  rich 

clover." 
"Sit  down  here  beside  me  my  worthy  old  friend, 


58  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  knew  my  misfortunes  were  near  at  an  end ; 
You're  a  beautiful,  youthful,  and  kindhearted 

man," 

Some  moments  the  blarney  profusely  ran. 
His  features  assumed  a  paternal  glow, 
As  thus  he  addressed  me,  distinctly  and  slow. 
His  voice,  patriarchial,  did  many  times  fail, 
Recounting  this  brief,  chronological  tale  : 

"The  worthy  Grand  Chief  Engineer  of  the  earth 
Proclaimed  from  His  home  beyond  planet  or 

star, 

That  I  should  commence  at  the  moment  of  birth 
Uniting-  mankind,  smoothing-  factions  that  jar. 
I  traveled  the  g-lobe  on  the  wing-s  of  the  storm, 
I  labored  in  vain  the  command  to  perform. 
In  castle  and  cot  in  all  climes  have  I  been, 
In  palace  and  prison  sad  sights  have  I  seen ; 
Through  highways  and  byways  too  many  by 

name, 
'Twas  man  against  man,  yes,  and  woman  the 

same. 

Each  bloated  oppressor,  with  miserly  hoard, 
Still  clings   to  his  gold,    and   God's   poor  are 

ignored  ; 
Dissensions    and   quarrelings,    in   factions  and 

creeds, 
Bickerings,  and  wranglings,  and  damnable  deeds. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  59 

The  body  politic's  unsavory  and  sore, 
Corruption  has  seized  on  its  very  heart's  core. 
Save  noble  exceptions,  mankind  I  have  found 
Are  guided  by  Satan  the  universe  round. 
I'll  retire  from  the  scene,  my  successor  is  near; 
Perhaps  he'll  accomplish  the  mission  next  year. 
To  the  B.  of  L.  E.  I've  been  partial,  I  own, 

There  I  found  brothers  who  listen  to  reason, 
A  man  I  triumphantly  placed  on  the  throne, 

Who'll  shield  you  from  danger  and  guard  you 
from  treason. 

And  now,  my  dear  boy,  I  will  gladden  your  heart 
With  something  I'll  whisper  before  I  depart : 
If  you'll  follow  my  counsels  they'll  lead  you 

aright 

To  a  clime  where  you'll  dally  in  endless  delight ; 
'Tis  a  land  where  vast  wealth  on  the  surface  is 

found, 
And  companions,  delighted,  sport  all  the  year 

round  "- 
"Oh,  bless  you!"  I  said,  "will  you  tell  me  its 

name?" 
"You  rascal"   he  cried,    "do  you    mean  to 

deceive  me?" 

"I  do  not,  indeed,  but  my  heart's  in  a  flame, 
To  hear  where  that  climate's  located,  believe 

me." 


GO  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

His  features  assumed  some  incredible  leers ; 
My  eyes  begun  shedding-  mock-penitent  tears, 
He  saw  them,  again  to  his  heart  I  went  creeping-, 
Old  men,  like  old  maids,  are  soon  conquered  by 
weeping1. 

He  resumed  :  "When  your  sails  are  all  set  to  the 

breeze, 

And  oft'  you  go  cruising-  in  fanciful  seas, 
Remember  directions  I  now  shall  unfold 
You'll  find  they  will  lead  to  contentment  and 

gold; 

Draw  nearer,  my  life  is  fast  ebbing1  away, 
I'm  nearing  the  dawn  of  eternity's  day"- 
The  clock  begun  tolling1,  my  g-uest  guve  a  bound ; 
To  stop  him  some  moments  I  made  an  endeavor: 
'Twas  midnight,  and  scarcely  had  struck  the 

twelfth  sound, 
When  Seventy-Four  left  my  vision  forever. 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 

"Now  freig-hts  are  up,"  said  Mickey  Joyce, 
"And  wag-es  too,  so  boss,  less  lip; 

Close  reef  your  shrill,  commanding-  voice, 
Or  I'll  be  off  and  make  a  trip^ 

A  life  ashore  is  drudge  and  drive, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  61 

For  twelve  long  hours,  to  and  fro ; 
It  matters  not  how  hard  I  strive, 
I  ne'er  can  get  a  watch  below." 

But  freights  are  up  and  times  are  good, 

And  owners  very  freely  boast 
"They'll  gi ve their 'Matlows'  wholesome  food, 

Roast  beef,  plum-duff,  with  quail  on  toast." 
Just  like  the  good  old  days  of  yore, 

When  tables  groaned  with  flesh  and  fish  ; 
And  captains  brought  their  crews  ashore, 

To  find  a  still  more  dainty  dish  ! 

I  yet  can  shift  a  sheet  and  hand 

A  sail  when  equinoctials  howl ; 
Besides,  at  sea,  not  like  the  land, 

The  mates  don't  care  how  much  I  growl ; 
But  here  its  work  the  live-long  day, 

In  ev'ry  kind  of  stormy  weather, 
And  scarcely  get  sufficient  pay 

To  keep  my  body  and  soul  together. 

Yourself  and  I  have  shipmates  been 
Some  twelve  or  thirteen  years  ago, 

With  Parsons,  in  the  Algerine, 

Who  gave  us  watch  and  watch  below ; 

You  then  could  growl  as  well  as  me, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

And  work  "Tom  Coxs'  traverse*"  too, 
And  on  a  first-class  jamboree 
I  never  got  the  start  of  you. 

For  seven  years  I've  done  my  best 

Against  head  seas  and  heavy  gules  ; 
'Tvvas  'full  and  by,'  no  ease  nor  rest ; 

• 

With  stranded  gear  and  tatter 'd  sails. 
But  now  the  wind  is  piping  fair, 

And  freights  are  on  the  rise  once  more  ; 
Don't  drive  me  or  the  yards  I'll  square, 

And  on  my  lee  leave  jobs  ashore. 

I  simply  quote  Mike's  words  to  prove 

That  times  are  on  the  mend  again  ; 
That  freights  and  ships  are  on  the  move, 

To  cheer  the  hearts  of  sailor  men. 
Old  tars  begin  to  roll  their  hips, 

And  talk  of  all  their  pleasures  past, 
With  captains,  who  commanded  ships, 

And  used  them  well  before  the  must. 


*  In  nautical  parlance,  working  "Tom  Coxs'  traverse"  means  to  shirk 
from  duty. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  63 

TO  P.  M.  ARTHUR. 

Grand  Chief  Engineer  of  the  Brotherhood  of  Locomotive  Engineers, 
Cleveland,  Ohio. 

My  worthy  chief,  a  word  or  two, 
An  humble  friend  will  have  with  you, 

With  no  intent  to  flatter. 
My  Muse  is  honest,  frank  and  blunt, 
In  manhood's  fight  she  seeks  the  front, 

And  can't  be  hired  to  spatter 
High-sounding-  words  of  fulsome  praise 
On  men  who  seek  dark,  devious  ways, 

She  does  detest  such  clatter ; 
That's  why,  to-night,  in  accents  true, 
She  whispers  me  to  write  to  you, 

And  so  I  jingle  at  her. 

A  general,  you,  of  tactics  rare, 
Of  toil  you  take  the  larger  share, 

Your  army  all  reviewing ; 
With  honest  words  of  hope  and  cheer, 
You  drive  away  all  doubt  and  fear, 

Our  grosser  thoughts  subduing. 
'Tis  better  far,  my  worthy  chief, 
And  in  the  end  brings  more  relief 

From  many  ills  accruing, 
Than  firing  up  each  injured  mind, 
Until  it  is  with  passion  blind, 

And  conquered  foes  pursuing. 


64  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  often  think,  with  keen  delight, 
Upon  that  last  October  night, 

When  you  and  Greene  together, 
Surrounded  by  a  faithful  few 
Good  members  of  One-Fifty-Two — • 

Both  pictured  stornry  weather, 
For  any  man  who'd  dare  to  yield 
Our  Brotherhoods'  protecting  shield 

For  sly,  official  blether — 
Who'd  step  within  the  slimy  snare 
Of  promises,  so  seemly  fair, 

Then  bound  by  such  a  tether. 

You  have  your  faults,  I  know  they're  few, 
You'll  surely  meet  temptation,  too, 

If  not  you're  more  than  human  : 
Your  duty  calls  you  face  to  face 
With  men  who  are  a  purse-proud  race, 

And  full  of  keen  acumen  ; 
But,  sure,  your  honest  manly  heart, 
Will  never  from  those  maxims  part, 

All  prized  so  much  by  you,  man. 
Your  life's  a  page  where  men  can  read , 
And  in  temptation's  hour,  indeed, 

We  know  you  proved  a  true  man. 

With  weapons  made  of  voice  and  pen, 
You  beard  the  lion  in  his  den. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  I 

Unawed  by  fear  or  favor. 
Our  rights  determined  to  maintain, 
Each  nerve  you'll  put  to  fullest  strain, 

Regardless  of  palaver 
From  oily  tongues,  thrown  out  to  woo 
The  mighty  influence  of  you 

For  any  base  enslaver. 
Ah  !  well  they  know  your  cause  is  just, 
And  in  our  cause  your  knightly  thrust 

Grows  braver,  still,  and  braver. 

Then  strike — but  not  below  the  belt — 
Strike  !  your  blows  will  soon  be  felt, 

Your  aim  is  sure  and  steady, 
Strike,  and  make  each  tyrant  reel, 
Strike  !  your  words  cut  worse  than  steel, 

Fluent,  fierce  and  ready. 
Strike  the  hireling,  knavish  pack,     » 
Strike  !  an  army's  at  your  back, 

Patient,  cool,  unheady, 
Waiting  to  sustain  their  Chief, 
And  drive  our  enemies  to  grief, 

In  retribution's  eddy. 


66  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

A  PEN   PICTURE. 

My  mother,  in  juvenile  years  of  her  son, 
Would  say  in  a  passion  and  sometimes  in  fun  : 
"Arrah  Shandy,  you  rascal, y  our  gostering  tricks 
Will  get  both  yourself  and  your  friends  in  a  fix," 
And  now,  my  dear  Journal,  I  see  an  array 
Of  questions  just  out  in  the  number  for  May, 
Which  bring-  to  my  mind  the  hard  words  of  my 
mother, 

Prophesying    my  friends  both    confusion   and 
bother. 

Your  replies,  I  infer,  satisfied  the  demand, 
For  which  in  exchange  I  extend  you  the  hand 
Of  a  rollicksome,  careless,  unfortunate  elf, 
Who  will  "rise  and  explain"  a  few  words  for 

himself. 

Your  answers  were  really  too  partial  to  me, 
But  mine  shall  be  outspoken,  candid  and  free — 
An  answer  in  future  to  all  who'll  enquire 
And  seek  an  acquaintance  with  Shandy  Maguire. 

In  regard  to  my  engine  and  what  she  can  do, 
That  "writer"  I'll  answer,  my  words  shall  be  few, 
Because  he  don't  care  if  I'm  posted  at  all, 
He  wants  us  to  think  that  himself  knows  it  all. 
Suffice  it  to  say  when  the  pay  car  comes  round 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  67 

No  handier  boy  with  the  pen  can  be  found ; 
My  autograph  then  with  a  flourish  and  dash 
I'll  exchange  in  return  for  some  hard-earned  cash. 

You'll  find  me  an  honest  gossoon  I  must  say, 
So  long-  as  temptation  is  kept  from  my  way  ; 
I  am  truthful  and  never  a  lie  will  I  tell, 
If  the  truth,  at  the  moment,  will  answer  as  well. 
I  am  pious,  and  spend  many  hours  in  prayer, 
When  I  stand  on  the  rough,  ragged  edge  of  despair; 
Much  addicted  to  drinking,  the  bottles  I  drain, 
When  the  corks  go  a-popping  from  Fancy's 
Champagne. 

I  can  palm  off  a  pun  and  occasional  joke, 
I  can  always  enjoy  a  good  sociable  smoke ; 
And  dear  to  my  heart  is  my  colored  dudeen 
Which  I  sport  in  the  band  of  my  greasy  caubeen. 
My  hair  doesn't  curl  because  in  my  youth, 
I  always  would  suffer  for  telling  the  truth ; 
Besides,  there's  a  saving  in  needles  and  thread 
To  mothers  who  toy  with  their  sons  by  the  head. 

In  size  I  am  rather  "betwixt  and  between," 
In  looks  I'm  pronounced  "most  decidedly  green." 
Conversing — ah !  then  they  exclaim  :  "What  a 

rogue, 

Sure  he  tickles  my  heart  with  his  elegant  brogue. " 
In  dress,  rather  plain,  and  my  wardrobe  is  light, 


68  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Not  such  as  will  gladden  a  landlady's  sig-ht ; 
When  obliged  to  change  quarters  I  move  all  my 
stock 

In  a  trunk  which  I  make  from  a  well  worn  sock. 

Few  friends  have  I  had,  yet  in  smiles  and  in  tears, 
I  have  scrambled  along-  to  maturity's  years  ; 
And  I  fear  I  am  doomed  a  "superfluous  man" 
To  linger  my  days  with  the  bachelor  clan. 
1  am  last  of  my  race — when  I'm  summoned  away, 
When  my  mortal  remains  shall  be  lowered  in 

clay, 

No  kindred  will  then  be  found  kneeling-  in  prayers, 
Giving  thanks  for  a  death  that  has  made  them 

all  heirs. 

Now,  ladies,  I  fear  I  have  ruined  for  life 
Ev'ry  chance  in  my  favor  for  g-etting  a  wife; 
I  have  painted   my   picture  with  pen,  ink  and 

paper, 

Well  aware  'tis  a  foolish,  ridiculous  caper. 
I  conformed  to  rules  I  was  taug-ht  in  my  youth, 
When  questions  are  asked  my  replies  shall  be 

truth ; 
I  hope  such  a  straight-forward  course  you'll 

admire, 
And  smile  an  approval  on  Shandy  Mag-uire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  69 

Dear  "Roger"  whoever,  wherever  you  are, 
Your  poem  has  caused  me  both  grief  and  despair ; 
That  bouncing  grass  widow  has  threatened  to 

come 

Along  with  her  offspring  in  search  of  a  home  ; 
Since  reading  your  reasons,  she  writes  me  they're 

true. 
Please  take  her  yourself — with  such  objects  in 

view — 

I  fear  you're  the  husband  she  waits  for  in  tears, 
And  had  cause  for  deserting  herself  and  her 

dears. 

"  Garryowen"   my  regards,  my  long    silence 

excuse, 

Be  prepared  when  I  call  for  an  overland  cruise  ; 
You  were  also  invited — with  prosperous  weather 
We'll  both  of  us  start  for  Kentucky  together. 
When  your  canvas  is  bent  and  3rou're  ready  to 

sail, 

To  Oswego,  New  York,  send  a  letter  by  mail ; 
Once  more  'neath  the  shade  of  magnolias  I'll 

rhyme, 
And  escape  for  a  season  this  winter-bound  clime. 


70  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

LOSS  OF  THE  SCHOONER  "  I.  G.  JENKINS" 

On  Lake  Ontario,  off  Oswego,  November,  1875.    Bead  at  the  Benefit 
Entertainment  in  behalf  of  the  Widows  and  Orphans. 

Oswego  in  garments  of  mourning-  is  clad, 
She  weeps  for  her  gallant  and  brave, 

Who  were  summoned  away  to  the  ranks  of  the 
dead, 

'Neath  Ontario's  foam-crested  wave. 
All  as  brave  as  ere  trod  fore  and  aft  on  the  deck ; 
We  have  known  them  from  infancy's  years ; 

And  their  doom  we  can  tell  by  the  fragments  of 
wreck 

That  are  washed  by  the  seas  to  our  piers. 

Oh,  hark  to  the  news  which  prevails  on  each 

street, 

Through  the  highways  and  byways  'tis  tossed, 
In  a  grief -laden  tone,  from  each  person  we  meet, 

All  proclaiming  the  Jenkins  is  lost ! 
"She  went  down  with  all  hands,"  is  the  pitiful 

cry 

Sent  from  hearts  unaccustomed  to  weep, 
With  the  tears  in  a  flood  rolling  free  from  each 

eye, 
As  a  tribute  to  those  in  the  deep. 

All  her  sailors  were  brave  as  ere  climbed  up  a 
spar, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  71 

And  her  mates  they  were  made  to  command ; 
Captain  Brown  was  as  noble  and  skillful  a  tar 

As  ever  sailed  off  from  the  land. 
Such  were  the  men  whom  her  owners  could  boast, 
But  clouds  wore  a  dark,  angry  frown, 
Which  obscured  all  the  land  marks  surrounding- 
'  our  coast, 

On  the  morning  the  Jenkins  went  down. 

A  merciless  gale  o'er  Ontario's  breast 

Was  driving-  with  terrible  force, 
It  had  a  full  sweep  from  the  stormy  nor'west, 

And  drove  her  away  from  her  course. 
All  human  exertions  to  save  her,  we  know, 

Were  made  lay  her  captain  and  crew ; 
Alas  !  all  in  vain,  for  the  gale-driven  snow 

Our  lig-hthouse  shut  out  from  their  view. 

Hear  the  cries  of  the  widows  and  orphans  arise 

To-night  on  the  cold  biting  air. 
Oh !  how  hard  is  the  heart  that's  unmoved  by 
the  sighs 

And  the  symbols  of  deepest  despair ; 
The  husbands  and  fathers  who  labored  for  bread, 

Are  rolling-  in  watery  graves, 
Never  more  to  arise  till  the  trump  of  the  dead 

Shall  call  them  from  under  the  waves. 


72  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

All  you  who   are   blessed   with   affluence  and 

wealth, 

Who  bask  in  prosperity's  ray, 
Whose  lives  are  a  round  of  contentment  and 

health, 

To  you  for  assistance  we  pray. 
Oh  !  pity  the  wives  of  the  ill-fated  tars, 

Give  freely  from  plentiful  stores, 
Their  husbands,  perhaps,  may  be  lashed  to  the 

spars, 
And  come  washed  by  the  seas  to  our  doors. 


AN  ALBUM   RHYME. 

Dear  Journal :     A  lady  one  evening- 1  met, 
A  valued  acquaintance,  a  handsome  brunette  ; 
A  frolicsome,  fun-loving-,  beautiful  creature, 
Exquisitely  molded  in  every  feature. 
Like  most  of  her  sex  of  the  beautiful  type, 
Whose  natural  charms  are  lusciously  ripe, 
She  had  scores  of  admirers  all  "  willing-  to  die," 
So  they  madly  exclaimed,  "for  a  glance  of  her 
eye." 

A  favorite  song-  for  myself  she  would  sing-, 
When  turning-  her  music  I  noticed  a  ring-, 
That  spoke  of  engagement ;  I  saw  at  a  giance 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  73 

My  chances  were  slim,  so  I  woke  from  my  trance. 
That  tell-tale  said  plainly  she'd  never  be  mine, 
Henceforth  like  a  slave  I  will  kneel  at  her 

shrine, 

And  blarney  her  up  in  as  elegant  style, 
As  any  gossoon  from  the  Emerald  Isle. 

That  evening- 1  saw  she'd  an  object  in  view, 
She  said  :  "  There's  a  leaf  in  my  album  for  you, 
And,  this  for  a  subject :  '  please  tell  what  you 

see 

To  admire  in  a  wild,  naught}-  girl  like  me.' ' 
She  smiled  at  my  glances,  she  gave  me  her  hand , 
It  thrilled  like  the  touch  of  a  magical  wand, 
It  put  me  in  rapture  as  well  as  in  rhyme, 
And  here's  the  response  which  I  sent  in  due 

time  : 

I  see — but,  alas  !  I'm  deserving  of  pity 
Because  all  my  wishes  are  hopeless,  dear  Kittie, 
I  see  a  profusion  of  dark  wavy  tresses, 
Two  lips  that  were  made  to  receive  my  caresses, 
Lips  that  the  tint  of  vermillion  disclose, 
Tinged  with  the  hue  we  admire  in  the  rose, 
Eyes  that  can  pierce  through  my  soul  with  their 

brightness, 

Hands  that  out-rival  the  lily  in  whiteness, 
A  bust  that  is  rounded  perfectly  by  nature, 


74  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Proclaiming1  the  owner  a  beautiful  creature, 
A  voice  that  is  sweeter  than  tropic  birds  winging 
Their  way  through  rich  gardens   of  melody, 

sing-ing-, 

Smiles  that  enrapture  my  senses  when  gazing, 
More  bright  than  the  Sun  when  in  splendor  he's 

blazing, 
A  breath  that  surpasses  the  sweet-morning  dew, 

love, 

Or  fragrance  that  blooms  'round  the  shores  of 
Peru,  love. 

Right  here  I  should  cease,  but  an  imp  at  my 

shoulder 
Keeps  whispering  :  "  time  all  those  charms  will 

moulder," 
And  now  while  agkuv  in  the  noon  of  your  youth, 

love, 

I  give  you  advice  to  be  taken  forsooth,  love, 
"Lay 'siege  to  a  heart  that  you  know  will  not 

falter 
Performing  the  vows  which  are  made   at  the 

altar, 

Don't  mind  his  appearance,  if  brawny  his  form, 
So  best  when  he  buffets  adversity's  storm. 

His  coat — what's  the  odds  if  its  torn  and  tat 
tered  ? 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  75 

His  hat  ma}7  from  service  be  crownless  and 

battered, 
When  married,  he'll  quickly  improve  with  your 

aid,  love, 

Besides,  he  will  not  let  you  die  an  old  maid,  love." 
"Will  you  take  this  advice  which  I  tender  to  you, 

love  ? 

Of  course,  if  you  do,  you  are  welcome  to,  true  love. 
Don't  answer  me  "no"or  you'll  weep  itin  sorrow, 

If  "yes"  you  can  dance  at  our  wedding-  to-mor 
row." 


TO  DOCTOR  LAWRENCE  REYNOLDS. 

(EX-CITY  PHYSICIAN.) 

Dear  Doctor  :  I'm  rather  inclined  to  the  notion 
That  thing's  haven't  went  as  they  really  should 

g'o, 
To  pay  for  the  years  of  untiring  devotion 

You  gave  to  the  cause,  both  in  sunshine  and 
snow. 

God  knows  when  we  made  you  a  City  Physician, 
With  pay  just  sufficient  to  furnish  you  grub, 

We  never  supposed  they'd  create  a  commission. 
And  knock  out  your  brains  with  an  Albany 
club. 


76  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Alas  !  like  yourself, there  are  many  brave  fellows, 
Whose  features  have  lengthened  a  fathom  or 

more ; 

All  sad,  disappointed,  downhearted  Othellos, 
Washed  high  on  the  rocks  of  despondency's 

shore. 
Experience  has  taught  all  those  boys   to  their 

sorrow, 

That  labor  don't  always  receive  its  full  pay- 
That  birds  left  to  fly  in  the  fields  till  to-morrow 
May  laugh  at  the  cage  and  float  gaily  away. 

God  bless  the  good  times  that  have  left  us  forever, 
When   candidates   smilingly  walked    on  the 

street ; 

With  speeches  well  studied,  so  oily  and  clever, 
And  asked  us  to  drink  ev'ry  time  that  we'd 

meet. 

Then  meekly  request  us  to  help  them  to  office  ; 
Oh  Lord !  how  they'd  make  us  the  promises 

fair, 
But  doctor,  avick !  they  would  break  them  and 

scoff  us, 

When  once  they'd  sit  down  in  an  Alderman's 
Chair. 

And  there  they've  been  sitting  for  years  and 
been  sleeping 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  7? 

On  nice  cushioned  chairs,  in  our  grand  City 

Hall, 
Whilst    charter    amendments   went    stealthily 

creeping 
Around  through  the  flesh-pots,  and  gobbled 

them  all. 

They  left  not  a  bone  worth  the  labor  of  picking ; 
Our  dear  city  daddies  we  well  may  reproach. 
Hereafter,   we'll  leave   them  to  do  their  own 

kicking, 
Because  they  are  like  the  fifth  wheel  to  a  coach. 

Oh,  times  they  have  changed  since  High  Joints 

came  in  fashion, 
And  those  are  the  boys  who  may  whistle  and 

sing, 
How  slyly  they  work — not  a  loud  word  in  passion 

When  grinding  the  shears  for  an  Alderman's 
wing. 

We  need  not  much  care  how  our  votes  are  con 
tested, 

The  voice  of  the  many  is  drowned  by  the  few, 
And  justice  is  shackled,  confined,  and  arrested — 
Fifth  warders  well  know  what  High  Jointers 
can  do. 

But,  Doctor,  cheer  up,  for  the  day  will  come 
surely 


78  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

When  out  on  the  war  path  we'll  sally  once 

more; 
When  those  who  are  now  back  of  breast  works 

securely, 

Must  come  to  the  caucus  the  same  as  of  yore  ; 
And  there,  foot  to  foot,  with  our  scalping  knives 

ready, 
We'll  square  up  accounts,  and  we'll  soon  end 

the  strife; 

Our  aim  will  be  deadly,  unerring-  and  steady, 
Defying-  your  skill  to  recall  them  to  life. 


DEATH   LEVELS  ALL 

By  the  lig-ht  of  a  glimmering  taper 

Which  scarce  penetrated  the  gloom, 
I  perused  in  the  evening  paper, 

One  night  as  I  sat  in  my  room, 
How  Archibald  Perkins  was  lying 

Delirious  and  seriously  ill, 
His  critical  ailment  defying 

The  best  of  our  medical  skill. 

"That's  news!"  I  exclaimed,  and  the  paper 

I  threw  on  my  tenantless  bed. 
I  quickly  extinguished  the  taper, 

Strange  notions  ran  wild  in  my  head. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  ?9 

I  meant  to  secure  an  admission 

To  the  chamber  where  Archie  was  lying- ; 
I  could  pass  as  a  skillful  physician 

And  see  how  a  rich  man  Jay  dying-. 

I  entered  and  found  him  as  lowly 

As  any  poor  mortal  could  be ; 
By  efforts  most  painful  he  slowly 

Held  short  conversation  with  me ; 
I  felt  of  his  pulse  and  pretended 

I  knew  all  about  his  complaint, 
I  told  him  to  cure  I  intended, 

Altho'  he  was  feeble  and  faint. 

"In  medical  lore  I  am  noted"- 

For  killing  far  more  than  I  cure — 
Some  jargon  expressions  I  quoted, 

He  thought  I  was  skillful,  I'm  sure. 
Faint  hope  o'er  his  features  went  flying : 

"Your  name  sir  ?"  he  then  did  enquire, 
"Oh,  one  that  can  save  you  from  dying, 

Yours  truly,  Lord  Shandy  Maguire." 

The  dying  fool  aped  after  titles, 
Supposing  my  high-sounding  name 

Would  give  a  new  lease  to  his  vitals, 
And  fan  life's  faint  spark  into  flame. 


80  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

"  Your  Lordship,  "  said  he,  "I  am  wealthy, 
When  cured  I'll  one  thousand  allow. '; 

I  replied  :  "you're  sufficiently  healthy 
To  give  me  your  autograph  now." 

He  mutter'd  of  business  relations, 

Of  stock-board  transactions  did  prate, 
Of  shares  and  their  latest  quotations, 

And  thirty  days  grace  after  date. 
He  prayed  that  the  past  be  forgiven, 

And  health  with  its  blessings  sent  back, 
Of  living  more  closely  to  heaven. 

I  then  screwed  him  down  on  the  rack. 

"I've  often  heard  tell  of  a  story, 

How  Satan  an  angel  would  be 
When  ill,  but  again  in  his  glory, 

The  devil  an  angel  was  he  ; 
And  now,  since  we're  talking  of  devils, 

I  have  a  few  words  I  must  say  : 
Quit  thinking  of  all  your  past  revels, 

And  for  your  poor  soul  let  us  pray." 

"You're  now  in  a  sinking  condition, 

Not  fit  to  respond  to  the  call, 
I'm  neither  a  quack  nor  physician, 

Can  give  no  assistance  at  all. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  81 

Great  riches  on  earth  you  were  given, 

For  reasons  1  cannot  explain ; 
You'll  not  find  a  passport  to  Heaven 

In  all  of  your  ill-gotten  gain." 

The  Dives  of  this  world  are  man}', 

In  luxury  rolling'  secure, 
And  will  not  contribute  a  penny 

To  save  from  starvation  the  poor ; 
But  grind  us  througii  ages  and  ages, 

Till  sinews  are  worn  to  thread, 
Curtailing  our  lives  and  our  wages, 

When  fighting  the  battle  for  bread." 

"You've  always  been  fond  of  fast  riding, 

And  sorely  the  patience  would  try 
Of  slaves  switched  for  hours  on  a  siding 

Until  you'd  go  thundering  by ; 
You'll  find  previous  running  exceeded 

By  speed  most  appaling  to  view, 
To  climes  where  no  snow-plow  is  needed, 

To-night  in  old  Charon's  canoe." 

Your  eyes  will  soon  close  on  your  capers. 

Old  death's  at  the  head  of  your  stairs, 
To-morrow  the  news  in  the  papers 

Will  gladden  the  hearts  of  your  heirs. 

6 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

'Though  my    coat  hang's  by  patches  and 
stitches, 

My  purse  and  my  pockets  are  light, 
Yet  Archie,  for  all  of  your  riches 

I  wouldn't  change  places  to-night. 


MORE  TROUBLE. 

At  the  close  of  a  wearisome  day, 

My  engine  in  round-house  secured, 
I  was  carelessly  strolling- -away, 

Until  called  to  "examine  the  hoard." 
A  feeling  that  all  wasn't  right 

Crept  instantly  over  me  there  ; 
This  order  that  hurst  on  my  sight 

Soon  plunged  me  in  deepest  despair  : 

"On  his  arrival,  with  speed 

To  headquarters  send  Shandy  Maguire ; 
Have  promptly  this  order  obeyed, 

(Signed)  Archibald  Perkins,  Esquire." 
No  wonder  I  gazed  in  dismay, 

With  tears  running  down  from  each  eye; 
I  thought  Perkins  was  cold  in  clay, 

And  his  nose  turned  up  to  the  sky. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  83 

I  entered,  and  saw  at  a  glance 

What  my  chances  were  going-  to  be, 
As  round  like  a  bear  did  he  prance, 

With  his  eyes  shooting-  vengeance  at  me. 
I  moistened  the  valves  of  my  tongue, 

Kicked  the  office  door  shut  with  a  slam, 
Knowing  well  'tis  the  same  to  be  hung 

For  a  sheep  as  it  is  for  a  lamb. 

"So,  so,  Mr.  Shandy,  you're  here, 

Impostor,  physician  and  quack, 
"My  Lord  !"  he  exclaimed  with  a  sneer, 

"Is  your  body  prepared  for  the  rack  ? 
T'other  night,  with  a  hellish  design, 

Concealed  by  the  drapery's  gloom, 
You  entered  a  chamber  of  mine, 

To  hurry  me  off  to  the  tomb. 

"This  letter  I  hold  in  my  hand 

Will  have  you  committed  to  jail, 
For  villainy  skillfully  plan'd, 

A  crime  not  admitting  of  bail ; 
The  best  legal  talent  I've  got, 

The  laws  shall  be  changed  at  my  will ; 
I'll  send  you  in  dungeons  to  rot 

On  the  charge  of  attempting  to  kill." 


84:  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"Shut  off,  and  down  brakes  on  your  slang-, 

Or  if  not,  Mr.  Archie  you'll  find, 
From  a  painful,  unmerciful  bang-, 

That  muscle's  more  powerful  than  mind. 
The  odds  are  ag-ainst  you,  old  boy, 

Consider,  your  health  is  still  poor, 
And  'twould  give  me  the  greatest  of  joy 

To  measure  your  length  on  the  floor. 

"The  charge  I  fling  back  in  your  face. 

And  of  one  thing  I'm  certain  and  sure  : 
You've  the  heart  to  bring  shame  and  disgrace 

On  a  man  just  because  he  is  poor : 
But  if  fortune  hops  into  the  scales, 

And  lingers  awhile  at  our  side, 
As  we  scud  with  prosperity's  gales, 

In  your  handsome  gilt  coach  we  shall  ride. 

"In  His  mercy  God  pity  the  man, 

Engaged  in  the  struggles  of  life, 
Who  seeks  on  the  laboring  plan, 

Subsistence  for  children  and  wife. 
It  were  better  by  far  he  was  call'd 

In  the  morning  of  life,  to  the  grave, 
Than  linger  along  to  be  gall'd 

By  the  fears  of  becoming  a  slave. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  85 

"By  a  move  on  the  chess-board  of  war, 

Four  millions  of  Blacks  were  made  free  ; 
Besides,  you  import  from  afar 

The  rat-eating,  heathen  Chinee. 
You  move  'em  all  over  this  land, 

Check-mating1  our  struggles  for  Right, 
Ah,  yes,  with  an  iron-clad  hand 

By  Heavens,  you'd  shackle  the  white. 

"How  happy  3rou'd  feel,  could  you  say, 

To  the  over-taxed  laboring  class, 
'I  am  made  of  far  daintier  clay, 

To  your  knees,  and  bow  down  as  I  pass.' 
But  wre'll  never  submit  to  be  slaves 

While  a  pulse-throb  of  manhood  remains  ; 
As  freedmen  we'll  sink  in  our  graves, 

Ere  breathing  one  hour  in  your  chains. 

"Then  pause  in  your  onward  career ; 

Reflect  on  the  course  you  pursue, 
Retribution,  stalks  close  in  the  rear 

Of  such  hardened  old  wretches  as  you  ; 
You'll  meet  with  it,  sooner  or  late, 

There's  a  terrible  sentence  in  store, 
When  you  pass  through  Eternity's  gate, 

For  the  wrongs  you  inflict  on  the  poor. 


80  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"  I  know  that  my  head  you'll  lop  off, 

You  never  could  relish  a  joke, 
So  here  is  material  enough, 

For  your  silver-gilt  dudeen  to  smoke. 
When  the  wreaths  curl  up  round  your  nose, 

As  you  lay  on  your  velvet  settee, 
Perhaps  you'll  he  lull'd  to  repose 

By  a  fond  recollection  of  me." 

I  ceased,  and  requested  my  pay, 

Supposing-  my  service  would  end ; 
He  order'd  me  mildly  away, 

And  said  he  would  sentence  suspend. 
"  Arrah,  glory  to  Heaven,  old  boy, 

Give  me  hold  of  your  fist  ere  we  part, 
And  remember,  kind  words  can  send  joy, 

Thrilling  down  to  the  depths  of  the  heart. 


THE  FREAKS  OF  FORTUNE. 

One  evening  I  sat  meditating 
On  various  ills  we  endure, 

And  many,  indeed,  are  the  ailments 
Encountered  thro'  life  by  the  poor. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  87 

I  heard  a  slow  footstep  approaching-, 
And  turning-  around  in  my  chair 

I  saw  an  old  man,  on  whose  features 
Sat  sorrow  and  hopeless  despair. 

He  looked  like  a  way-worn  stranger. 

I  did  not  his  business  enquire, 
But  asked  him  to  come  and  be  seated 

'Long-side  of  myself  at  the  fire. 
He  thanked  me  in  accents  of  sorrow ; 

His  voice,  Ah !  I've  heard  it  before. 
'Twas  Archibald  Perkins,  in  tatters, 

Who  came  unannounced  to  my  door ! 

Alas  !  what  a  chang-e  in  poor  Archie  ; 

Time  was  when  he  had  at  command 
A  gilt  equipage,  and  his  riches 

Were  talked  of  all  over  the  land. 
His  bearing,  then  chillingly  haughty, 

Conceit  played  a  prominent  part ; 
I  often  have  wondered  if  Heaven 

Created  the  man  with  a  heart ! 

I  heard  he  encountered  misfortune, 
Was  blown  on  adversity's  rocks, 

Because  he  endeavored  to  "corner" 
The  market  by  watering  stocks. 


88  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

With  prosperous  sunbeams  around  him 
His  friends  were  a  numerous  clan, 

But  now — he  was  sad  and  forsaken — 
A  heart-broken,  weary  old  man  ! 

"Alas  !  I'm  exhausted  with  hunger," 

Exclaimed  my  poor,  ill-fated  guest — 
"I  fain  would  implore  you  to  grant  me 

Some  needed  refreshments  and  rest. 
I  trudged  many  miles  since  the  morning, 

I'm  seeking  a  place  to  lie  down, 
Wherein  I'll  escape  for  a  season 

The  force  of  Adversity's  frown." 

"Benumbed  with  fatigue  and  exposure, 

I  ask  you  in  charity's  name, 
To  grant  me  this  night  in  seclusion  ; 

No  more  from  your  pity  I'll  claim. 
To-morrow  I'll  leave  you  forever, 

This  night  in  your  town  is  my  last ; 
The  rest  of  my  life  I'll  endeavor 

To  make  some  amends  for  the  past." 

He  ceased,  and  I  stood  up  before  him, 
To  notice  the  look  of  his  eye. 

I  paused  for  a  moment,  reflecting 
On  how  I  should  make  him  reply. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  89 

Poor  Archie,  a  tramp  and  a  beg-g-ar ! 

Who  once  had  a  palace-car  train ; 
With  waiters  to  fan  him  and  feed  him, 

And  pour  him  out  choicest  Champagne  ! 

"Indeed  I  am  more  than  astonished 

To  see  you  so  friendless  and  poor. 
I  scarcely  could  credit  my  senses, 

When  first  you  arrived  at  my  door. 
You're  quite  a  professional  beg-g-ar, 

You've  learned  the  trade  very  fast ; 
You're  weak  as  that  mem'rable  evening- 

You  thought  you  were  breathing1  your  last. 

"Before  I  will  grant  you  the  favor 

You  earnestly  seek  and  desire, 
A  little  account  must  be  settled 

Between  you  and  Shandy  Mag-uire. 
I  hope  sir  you  haven't  forg-otten 

Those  truths  which  I  told  you  of  yore, 
That  brokers  and  breakers  of  Wall  Street, 

Would  toss  you  on  poverty's  shore. 

"  Remember  the  time  you  sat  grinding- 
The  hearts  of  poor,  laboring-  men, 

By  orders  tyranic'lly  issued, 

Each  day  by  a  dash  of  your  pen  ; 


90  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Your  cutting1  and  slashing  of  wages, 
Your  payment  in  scrip,  and  the  mode 

Of  testing  our  power  of  endurance 
Along  the  whole  line  of  the  road. 

"  Oh,  Heaven  !  my  wrath  is  unbounded, 

At  how  you  abused  ev'ry  crew 
In  days  when  the  gavel  was  sounded 

By  such  an  old  tyrant  as  you. 
'Twas  seldom,  if  ever,  you  granted 

Redress  from  each  heartless  decree. 
No  doubt,  you  distinctly  remember 

Suspending  a  sentence  on  me. 

"  Yourself  graduated  from  labor, 

But  beggars  on  horseback  excel, 
They  drive  right  ahead  in  their  fury, 

And  ride  through  the  portals  of — Well, 
I  can't  see  the  use  of  me  marring 

My  beautiful  face  with  a  frown. 
Besides,  I  have  never  assisted 

In  kicking  a  man  when  he's  down. 

"You're  hungry  !  sit  down  at  this  table, 
You're  not  quite  so  choice  as  you  were 

In  days  when  the  stock  holders  dined  you 
And  fed  you  on  sumptuous  fare  ; 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  91 

Because  you  reduced  the  expenses, 
By  making  more  work  for  less  pay ; 

And  telling-  them  how  you  could  run  us 
As  far  as  you  chose  for  a  day." 

I  ceased,  and  I  quickly  regretted 

My  rashness  to  one  of  his  years. 
He  bowed  o'er  his  head  and  I  noticed, 

His  eyes  were  fast  filling-  with  tears. 
"Ha,  ha !  my  old  sport,  I  discover 

My  words  have  struck  deep  in  their  force 
And  reached  away  down  to  that  fountain 

Well  known  by  the  name  of  'remorse.' ' 

"Perhaps  you  are  playing-  impostor, 

Arrayed  in  that  mendicant  g-arb, 
To  see  with  what  vengeance  I'll  prick  you 

To-nig-ht  with  my  merciless  barb ; 
The  morrowr's  brig-lit  sun  may  behold  you 

Once  more  at  the  head  of  affairs, 
Arrayed  in  rich  broad-cloth,  and  all  of 

Your  old  time  original  airs." 

"Here's  bread,  you  can  see  I've  no  butter, 
Nice  dainties  to  us  are  a  treat ; 

This  bone  affords  excellent  picking- 
To  furnish  a  morsel  of  meat. 


92  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Here's  hay -seed  some  time  I've  had  steeping- ; 

My  grocery-man  sells  it  for  tea ; 
The  sugar  and  cream  are  dispensed  with, 

Since  wages  were  slaughtered  on  me. 

"Some  more  I  will  do  to  console  you, 

And  soothe  you  for  days  that  have  fled, 
When  supper  is  over  I'm  ready 

To  give  you  the  half  of  my  bed ; 
Because  I'm  inclined  to  consider 

Your  bark  was  far  worse  than  your  bite. 
Eat  hearty  now,  Archie,  poor  fellow  ! 

You'll  not  leave  my  cabin  to-night." 


OUR  LETTER  CARRIERS. 

Once  more  the  onward  march  of  time, 

In  measured  tread,  from  pole  to  pole. 
Through  every  land,  in  every  clime, 

Has  marked  again  the  seasons  roll 
That  brings  the  festive  days,  when  Mirth 

Will  reign  supreme  in  joyous  cheer, 
And  every  heart  o'er  all  the  earth 

Will  welcome  give  the  young  New  Year. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  93 

This  is  the  time  we  recognize 

The  faithful  service  of  the  past, 
We  march  along  with  glad  surprise 

To  those,  'mong  whom  our  lots  are  cast ; 
Bestowing  there  a  gift  of  love, 

Rewarding  with  an  open  hand — 
We  sow  the  seed  we'll  reap  above, 

When  called  to  join  Jehovah's  band. 

Of  all  who  may  our  bounty  claim 

A  few  stand  first  amid  the  throng; 
A  faithful  Band,  unknown  to  fame, 

Who  are  the  heroes  of  my  song, 
Who  plod  along  their  toilsome  way, 

In  Summer  sun,  or  Winter  sleet, 
From  early  morn  till  close  of  day, 

On  steady  and  untiring  feet. 

Oh  !     Who  can  tell  the  news  they  bear, 

As  on  they  hurry  to  and  fro, 
The  tender  joy,  or  grim  despair, 

The  written  tale  of  weal  or  woe. 
The  human  heart  ma}T  surge  and  sway 

With  varied  tidings  that  they  leave, 
As  on  they  travel  every  day, 

To  bid  us  all  rejoice,  or  grieve. 


94  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Such  servants  we  can  ne'er  despise, 

We'll  prove  each  faithful  action  here  ; 
We  will  reward  and  recognize 

At  this  the  dawning  of  the  year. 
We'll  cheer  their  hearts  and  urge  them  on 

Upon  their  daily  toilsome  way 
And  ere  the  dawn  of  Eighty-One, 

They  will  our  gen'rous  gifts  repay. 


LAKE   MICHIGAN. 

The  chain  of  lakes  are  rough  indeed, 

And  fearful  sometimes  to  behold ; 
When  chilling  winds  prevail  in  speed, 

And  drive  along  the  biting  cold ; 
More  fearful  yet  than  all  the  rest, 

The  very  first  in  danger's  van, 
Is  this,  the  great  lake  of  the  West, 

'Tis  term'd  "Wild  Lake  Michigan." 

The  shores,  like  mountains  steep  and  high, 
Are  all  composed  of  crumbling  sand ; 

If  underneath  a  wreck  does  lie 
One  man  in  ten  may  chance  to  land. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  95 

No  friendly  branch  or  root  projects 
To  clamber  from  the  rolling-  waves, 

Kind  Heaven  alone  is  all  protects 

Poor  shipwrecked  tars  from  watery  graves. 

And  yet  I  love  the  billows  wild, 

When  lashed  by  winds  and  capped  with  foam, 
When  mountain  waves  on  waves  are  piled, 

That  seem  to  touch  heav'n's  cloudy  dome ; 
Then  downward  sink  in  valleys  deep, 

Of  mad'ning-,  swirling-,  dashing  spray, 
Until,  rebounding,  on  they  sweep 

In  unobstructed  force  away. 


THE  COMING  OF  SPRING. 

A  few  short  weeks  will  make  a  change, 

Important  in  our  town, 
When  moral  laws  will  take  effect, 

And  vice  be  trampled  down  ; 
When  hoary  Frost  will  take  his  leave 

Of  every  hill  and  plain ; 
And  smiling  Spring,  the  poor  man's  hope, 

With  us  once  more  will  reign. 


96  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  merchant's  safe  he'll  then  unlock 

To  con  his  dollars  o'er, 
And  then  invest  judiciously, 

In  hope  of  gaining-  more ; 
The  wheels  of  enterprise  shall  hum, 

Which  long-  inactive  staid, 
When  those  much  looked  for  days  shall  come, 

To  give  new  life  to  trade. 

And  we  who  must  by  labor  live 

Will  hail  the  joyous  sound ; 
Our  willing  hands  we'll  freely  give, 

To  make  the  air  resound. 
With  steady  din  of  work  restored, 

When  all  may  laugh  and  sing, 
To  know  dull  times,  so  much  deplored, 

Shall  vanish  with  the  Spring. 


TO  AN   IMPORTUNATE  CONTRIBUTOR. 

Dear  Madam  : — With  feelings  of  sadness, 
I'm  forced  to  address  you  in  rhyme ; 

Your  letters  will  drive  me  to  madness, 
Unless  you  repent  of  the  crime. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

At  first,  when  I  thought  you  were  joking-, 

I  sent  you  soft  nonsense  galore, 
But,  madam,  of  late  you're  provoking-, 

And  piercing-  my  heart  to  the  core. 

The  "g-ush  "  that's  contained  in  each  letter, 
Your  mode  of  describing-  your  charms ; 

Your  hope,  that  for  worse  or  for  better, 
I'll  ling-er  my  life  in  your  arms. 

So  "g-entle,  kind-hearted  and  loving-," 
An  ang-el  you'd  have  me  believe, 

Whose  husband  at  present  is  roving- 
All  over  the  land  on  "  French  leave." 

You  never  have  written  the  reason 

He  fled  from  his  lodging-  and  board ; 
His  meals — were  they  ready  in  season  ? 

In  jars  did  you  have  the  last  word  ? 
Have  you  read  of  a  woman  called  "  Caudle?" 

(Would  that  all  Mrs.  Caudles  were  hung-.) 
Now,  say,  did  your  husband  skedaddle 

Away  from  your  musical  tong-ue  ? 

You've  asked  for  my  true  name  so  often, 
I'll  answer,  don't  think  me  a  liar, 

May  my  eyes  be  stone  blind  in  my  coffin, 
If  my  name  isn't  Shandy  Mag-uire. 


98  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  ladies  in  youth  called  me  "  Candy," 
Because  I  was  sweet — what  a  shame 

That  mother  should  change  it  to  Shandy, 
Hence,  madam,  my  "comical  name." 

You've  two  little  cherubs,  you  write  me, 

Both  handsome,  the  same  as  their  ma, 
Whose  juvenile  tricks  will  deligiit  me, 

When  once  I'm  installed  as  their  pa. 
Oh  !  know  you,  dear  madam,  I'd  rather, 

One  thousand  times  sooner,  I  swear  ! 
Have  one  of  my  own  call  me  "father," 

Than  scores  like  your  beautiful  pair. 

Your  eyes,  they  are  black,  and  what  matter  ? 

I  care  not  a  fig-  for  their  hue  ; 
It  never  puts  meat  on  the  platter, 

Be  the  shade  black  or  heavenly  blue ; 
Were  you  and  I  coupled  tog-ether, 

Your  husband  then  chance  to  come  back, 
I'm  certain,  dear  madam,  that  either 

Or  both  of  our  eyes  would  be  black. 

The  poor  devil  sighed  for  his  freedom, 

Like  many  another,  I  know, 
Whose  wrongs  do  impulsively  lead  'em 
On  roving  commissions  to  go. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  99 

He  dreamt  in  his  youth  and  his  fond  age 

Of  angels,  and  conjugal  vows, 
But  awoke  to  confinement  and  bondage, 

And  petticoat  rule  in  his  spouse. 

Because  in  my  rhymes  I  feel  jolly, 

And  conjure  a  smile  to  the  face, 
Don't  think,  from  my  capers  and  folly, 

I  sigh  for  your  absent  love's  place  : 
I'm  sure  it  is  better  to  tarry 

And  die  an  old  bachelor,  too, 
Than  take  any  chances,  and  marry 

A  bouncing  "grass  widow"  like  you. 

A  widow,  plump,  fair  and  kind-hearted, 
In  garments  of  mourning  arrayed, 

Whose  husband  from  life  has  departed, 
I'd  marry  as  soon  as  a  maid.. 

When  cold,  icy  blasts  would  sweep  o'er  us, 
Companioned  by  direst  alarms, 

I'd  laugh  at  the  wrath  of  old  Boreas, 
And  weather  the  gale  in  her  arms. 

So  your  hair  is  an  auburn  color, 

In  ringlets  adorning  your  head  ; 
I'll  wager  my  life  to  one  dollar 

Your  hair  is  a  carroty  red. 


100  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

If  you  stood  on  a  curve,  and  a  stranger, 
The  lever  I'd  quickly  throw  back, 

And  I'd  think  you  a  signal  of  danger, 

Dropped  off  from  some  train  on  the  track. 

Were  you  ever  possessed  of  a  father  ? 

If  so,  for  his  sake  will  you  cease  ? 
Have  you  ever  been  blessed  with  a  mother  ? 

If  you  were,  in  her  name  grant  me  peace. 
Your  sisters  and  brothers,  if  any, 

I  hope  will  advise  you  to  pause  ; 
At  present  our  jails  have  too  many 

Like  you,  for  transgressing  the  laws. 

Now  madam,  I  pray  you,  give  over ; 

Have  patience,  at  least  till  we're  sure 
Your  husband  lies  under  the  clover, 
And  then  we  can  slumber  secure. 
Don't  let  my  "  droll  warbling  "  allure  you, 

To  be  my  "heart's  queen"  don't  aspire, 
For  you'll  not  find  a  fool,  I  assure  you, 

In  him  who's  called  Shandy  Maguire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  101 

TO  R.  F.  LEFFIN,  MOBILE,  ALA. 

Ah,  Bob,  my  old  friend,  as  the  snow-flakes  are 

flying-, 

I  pen  you  these  lines  at  Ontario's  shore  ; 
Perhaps  you'll  peruse  them,  contentedly  lying1, 
Where   Nature  too  partially  squanders  her 

store ; 

Where  song-  birds  melodiously  sing-  in  the  bowers, 
And  mocking-  birds  whistle  their  notes  on  each 

tree, 
Where  love-tales  are  whispered  thro'  pathways 

of  flowers ; 

Ah,  those  are  the  scenes  that  are  treasured  by 
me. 

Enjoy  them,  my  friend ,  but  in  moments  of  leisure, 

Remember  the  days  that  have  fled  long  ago ; 
Yes,think  of  the  days  and  the  evening-s  of  pleasure 

We  sported  together  where  g-ulf  breezes  blow. 
This  life  is  a  lease,  you  must  sing  and  be  jolly, 

Bob,  quaff  the  full  bowl  of  enjoyment  to-day, 
To-morrow  old  Care  may  set  brakes  on  yotir  f  oily, 

And  stall  you,  my  boy,  in  the  midst  of  your 
play. 

Oh,  often,  I  think,  'tis  a  dire  occupation 

We  follow,  in  order  to  gain  us  our  bread  ; 
"He  died  at  his  post,"  is  a  poor  consolation, 


LOS  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

To  steal  from  our  graves  and  peruse  when 

we're  dead ; 
1  only  can  speak  for  the  son  of  my  mother, 

And  tell  you  "  such  honors  I  really  decline," 
Ah,  yes  ;  and  I  think  Bob,  I  know  of  one  other 
Whose  answer  would  be  in  such  language  as 
mine. 

Consider  the  dangers  that  hourly  beset  us ; 

A  wheel's  revolution  may  end  our  career. 
Tho'  brave  be  our  acts,  our  officials  forget  us 

When  mangled,  and  slaughtered,  and  cold  on 

our  bier. 
We  never  have  learned  that  Boards  of  Directors 

Donate  the  poor  widows  so  much  by  the  year, 
Nor  yet  have  we  known  them  as  orphans'  pro 
tectors, 

Rewarding  the  acts  of  a  brave  engineer. 

A  switch  may  be  wrong  or  a  bridge  may  be  rotten , 

A  trestle  but  poorly  constructed,  and  fall, 
Orders  be  loosely  obeyed  or  forgotten, 

And  trains  may  be  met  without  orders  at  all ; 
A  tire  may  burst  or  a  boiler  go  crashing, 

The  rods  and  the  pins  into  pieces  may  fly, 
A  rail  may  be  broken,  and  send  us  on  dashing, 

Unslirived  to  the  Court  of  our  Maker,  on  high. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  103 

But  Bob,  here's  a  truce  to  each  gloomy  forebod- 

irio' 
mto> 

Away  from  such  thoughts  you  and  I  must 

retreat. 
A  laugh  conquers  Care,  when  our  hearts  he's 

corroding, 
There's  time  to  shake  hands  with  old  Nick  when 

we  meet. 
Bad  luck  to  his  black,  smoky  phiz,  we  defy  him, 

His  old  cloven  foot  you  and  I  cannot  scare, 
With  guns  double-shotted,  if  ever  we  spy  him, 
We'll  riddle  his  carcass  with  broadsides  of 
prayer. 

Your  lady  love  gives  me  a  glance  full  of  meaning, 

As  much  as  to  say,  "My  poor  heart  is  in  pain," 
The  dregs  of  despair  I  am  sure  she  is  draining, 

And  gladly  she'd  hail  your  return  Bob,  again, 
'Tis  sad  to  behold  the  dear  girl  bewailing 

Her  lover,  who's  far,  far  away  from  her  view. 
Sooner  than  see  her  health  rapidly  failing, 

Old  friend,  I  will  court  her  by  proxy  for  you. 

No  doubt  you  are  still  flirting  gay ly  with  Nettie, 
Who  lives  in  the  rose-trellised  cot  at  Spring 

Hill; 
Who  strolled  at  your  side  down  the  beach  to 

Frascatti, 


104  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

And  floated  all  nig-ht  in  the  waltz  and  quadrille. 
And,oh,the  delig-ht  coming-  home  from  the  party  ! 

When  weary,  up  close  to  your  arms  she  would 

creep ; 
And  kisses  you'd  steal  by  the  hundred,my  hearty, 

As  soundly  the  darling-  pretended  to  sleep. 

Reg-ards  to  the  boys  who  of  yore  congregated 

Where  mirth  and  her  minions  hold  carnival 

still ; 
A  sig-h  for  our  brothers  whose  lives  were  ill-fated, 

Ah,  lig-ht  be  the  turf  on  Cole,  Quigley  and  Hill. 
And  now,  you'll  remember  I  hold  you  my  debtor, 

I  hope  you'll  devote  me  an  evening-  or  two. 
I'll  g-ladly  peruse  all  the  news  from  a  letter 

That's  penned  in  the  South  by  a  "Snow  Bird" 
like  you. 


THE  CLERGY  ON   HELL. 

The  clergy  are  now  agitating-  the  word, 

The  Bible  is  ransacked  all  'round, 
Fierce  thunder  from  pulpits,  on  all  sides  is  heard, 

Proclaiming-  where  hell  can  be  found. 
Orthodoxy  declares  it  a  bottomless  pit, 

Overflowing-  with  brimstone  and  fire, 
Where  millions  on  millions,  must  roast  on  a  spit, 

Impaled  by  God's  merciless  ire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  105 

Each  preacher  he  fashions  a  hell  of  his  own, 

To  suit  both  the  age  and  the  clime, 
God  prosper  their  labor,  we'll  leave  them  alone, 

They're  having"  a  hell-roaring-  time. 
I  enter  the  list  of  explorers  and  claim, 

To  know  all  its  hearings  right  well ; 
What's  more,  these  few  lines  are  inspired  by  the 
flame, 

And  the  fearful  surroundings  of  hell. 

Right  here  on  this  earth  as  it  travels  thro'  space, 

From  equator  away  to  the  polls, 
I  freely  maintain  is  that  terrible  place, 

Where  we  suffer  in  bodies  and  souls. 
We  existed  before,  but  in  some  other  sphere, 

Some  planet  remote  in  the  sky, 
Where  for  leading  a  reckless  and  sinful  career, 

We  were  kicked  from  that  region  on  high. 

We  starving  down  here  were  the  rich  ones  up 

there, 

Who  clung  to  our  miserly  hoard, 
Every  beggar  we  see  was  some  proud  millionaire, 

Whom  the  wants  of  his  fellows  ignored  ; 
And  those  on  this  earth  wi^h  their  pockets  well 

lined, 
With  all  the  good  tilings  which  we  love, 


106  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  merciful  God  of  creation  designed, 
That  they  were  the  beggars  above. 

We  are  now  the  reverse  of  what  once  we  have 
been, 

And  you  know  the  old  saying-  right  well : 
"  Put  a  beggar  on  horse-back  he'll  never  draw 
rein 

'Till  he  rides  through  the  portals  of  hell ;  " 
Fast  horses  we  rode  up  above,  but  we  rolled 

In  the  shape  of  a  babe  on  this  earth, 
And  our  first  tiny  squall  did  the  sad  tale  unfold, 

Where  we  entered  the  moment  of  birth. 

When  our  flesh  is  all  purged,  and  this  pilgrimage 

o'er, 

Our  remains  will  be  laid  in  the  tomb  ; 
And  from  there  we'll  ascend  to  our  riches  once 

more, 
Far  away  from  this  valley  of  gloom. 

There  the  rich  ones  of  earth  for  subsistence  must 
fight, 

They  must  struggle  in  bondage  and  strife, 
And  we  beggars  will  dally  in  endless  delight, 

If  we  only  can  think  of  this  life. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  10? 

KITTIE,   DEAR. 

Now  the  summer  days  are  dying-, 
And  the  leaves  will  soon  be  flying-, 
When  the  chilling-  winds  come  hieing-, 

Kittie,  dear, 

All  our  pleasure  trips  are  over, 
That  we  made  through  scented  clover, 
Since  you  chose  me  as  your  lover, 

Kittie,  dear. 

All  the  hours  we  strolled  tog-ether, 
In  the  g-lorious  sunny  weather, 
With  our  hearts  as  light  as  feather, 

Kittie,  dear, 

Have  been  full  of  untold  blisses, 
Sighs,  and  vows,  and  humid  kisses, 
With  you,  fairest  of  young-  misses. 

Kittie,  dear. 

Soon  the  snow-flakes  will  be  falling-, 
And  the  cold  intense,  appalling-, 
And  my  heart  for  3Tours  be  calling-, 

Kittie,  dear. 

Now  I  think  'tis  time  to  marry, 
Or  my  hopes  may  all  miscarry, 
If  you  long-er  wish  to  tarry, 

Kittie,  dear. 


108  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

We  are  young-  and  both  true-hearted, 
And  upon  life's  road  we're  started  ; 
Let  us  wed  and  ne'er  be  parted, 

Kittle,  dear. 

While  we've  health  we're  full  of  treasures  ; 
We'll  have  joy  in  flowing1  measures, 
And  our  share  of  wedded  pleasures, 

Kittie,  dear. 

Ah  !  that  smile  is  answer  dearly, 
And  it  speaks  in  tones  sincerely  ; 
Better  thus  than  tell  me  tearly, 

Kittie,  dear. 

Time  will  make  our  hearts  grow  fonder ; 
In  the  future  days  we'll  wander, 
And  on  scenes  like  this  we'll  ponder, 

Kittie  dear. 


THE  CLAM  BAKE. 

Held  on  the  Beach,  near  the  Dorian  House,  Norwalk,  Ct.,  October  33,  18? 

Since  first  in  very  tender  age 
I  made  my  bow  on  Nature's  stage 
To  act  my  part,  and  fill  the  plan 
That  God  assigns  to  every  man  ; 
Since  first  I  heard,  in  accents  loud, 
The  plaudits  of  the  merry  crowd, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  109 

I  ne'er  before  did  feel  such  joy 

Of  moments  pure,  without  alloy, 

As  when  I  stood  before  the  throng1, 

An  honored  bard  of  simple  song-, 

On  Norfolk's  beach,  where  mirth  held  sway, 

One  ne'er-to-be-forg-otten  day  ; 

Where  tables  all  were  freighted  down, 

And  every  indication  bore 
That  plenty  would  our  banquet  crown 

With  choicest  gifts  of  sea  and  shore. 

From  far  Pacific's  distant  slope, 

Where  rivers  run  o'er  g-olden  sands, 
Came  brothers  full  of  life  and  hope, 

With  noble  hearts  and  friendly  hands. 
From  Maine,  where  fierce  Atlantic's  roar 
Re-echoes  on  her  rock-bound  shore, 
Came  representatives  along-, 
With  words  of  cheer  to  swell  the  throng-. 
The  Canadas,  in  regions  North, 
Sent  many  noble  offspring-  forth, 
Whose  honest  features  impress  bore 
Of  summer  suns  and  winter's  hoar. 
From  Dixie's  land,  whose  name  can  thrill 
The  tender  chords  of  memory  still ; 
Where  tropic  breezes  waft  perfume 
Around  her  shore's  perennial  bloom, 


110  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Came  brothers,  sent  with  tidings  grand 

Of  noble  deeds  in  Dixie's  land. 

The  North,  the  South,  the  West,  the  East, 

Were  represented  at  the  Feast. 

No  niggard  store,  no  miser's  fare, 

But  choicest  viands,  rich  and  rare  ; 

As  course  on  course  did  disappear, 

Each  new  succeeding  course  was  near, 

Till  appetite  at  last  did  say, 

"  Our  hosts  are  victors  here  to-day.  " 

E'en  then  the  remnant  on  the  shore 

Would  feed  as  many  mortals  more. 

As  round  these  bounteous  tables  sate, 

Within  the  Wooden-Nutmeg  State. 

Old  ocean's  depths  were  ransacked  o'er, 

To  tempt  our  appetites  on  shore  ; 

And  Neptune  oft  was  forced  to  yield 

The  palm  to  forest,  stream  and  field. 

No  epicure  could  ever  wish 

To  taste  a  richer  flavored  dish  ; 

No  banquet  hall  in  olden  time, 

When  Rome  her  conquering  flag  unfurled, 
Its  equal  spread  throughout  her  clime, 

When  reigning  mistress  of  the  world. 

And,  think  you  that  I  mean  to  slight, 
By  silence,  those  divinely  fair — 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  Ill 

The  galaxy  of  beauty  brig-lit — 

That  deigned  to  grace  that  banquet  there  ? 
And,  think  you,  that  my  heart  is  cold, 
And  cast  in  rugged  nature's  mold  ? 
My  eyes  grown  dim,  obscured  by  haze, 
And  clouded  o'er  by  lucre's  blaze  ? 
Ah,  no  !  that  dear  enraptured  thrill 
Of  early  youth  keeps  bounding  still. 
When  years  accumulate  on  years  ; 
When  hoary  age  brings  groans  and  tears ; 
When  sluggish  streams  move  through  my  veins 
And  scarce  the  breath  of  life  remains ; 
E'en  then,  in  death's  dark,  dismal  hour, 
I'd  own  the  sway  of  woman's  power. 
I  only  fear'd  my  skill  to  sing, 
And  make  my  harp  responsive  ring- 
To  thoughts,  whose  sweet,  resistless  now 
Comes  surging  up  from  depths  below, 
Where  woman  steers  by  beauty's  chart 
Around  the  tendrils  of  my  heart. 
Her  eyes  are  beacons,  flashing  bright, 

And  when  their  beams  encircle  me, 
I  have  no  fear  in  darkest  night 

To  navigate  life's  stormy  sea. 

But  one  there  was  amongst  the  rest, 
A  lady,  eloquent  and  fair ; 


112  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

A  peerless  queen  in  song-  and  jest, 

With  dreamy  eyes  and  wavy  hair. 
Her  words,  evoking-  smiles  or  tears, 

Soon  won  their  way  through  social  bands, 
And  played  as  sweetly  round  our  ears 

As  harps  when  touched  by  angel  hands. 
And  when  the  parting  hour  drew  nigh, 

We  there  were  'thralled  by  beauty's  spell, 
The  murmured  words:  "kind  friends,goodjbye" 

The  silvery  tone  :  "  farewell,  farewell." 

She  left  as  left  those  angels  bright, 
When  summon 'd  off  from  mortal  ken, 

In  dazzling  rays  of  heavenly  light, 
In  olden  time,  from  sons  of  men. 

Kind  benefactors,  noble  men ! 

How  may  a  man  from  labor's  ranks 
Employ  a  rude,  untutor'd  pen, 

To  tender  you  our  heartful  thanks  ? 

My  noble  Chief,  your  pardon  give, 

If  for  this  moment  I  aspire 
To  be  the  Chief  Executive 

Of  brothers  bred  to  danger  dire  ; 
The  men  who  foremost  lead  the  van, 

Who  first  must  feel  the  deadly  shock ; 


SHANDY    MAGUIRE.  113 

And  who  in  trying-  moments  can 
Stand  firm,  unflinching1  as  the  rock ; 

It  is  for  those,  that  fearless  throng, 
I  fain  would  have  my  thanks  resound, 

I  merely  clothe  in  simple  song 
Your  words  upon  Long-  Island  Sound. 

Kind  benefactors,  now  I  pray, 

May  life  to  you,  and  all  your  kin, 
Be  one  continued  cloudless  ray, 

Where  Fortune's  smiles  come  teeming-  in  ; 
And  when  life's  evening-  draws  a-nigh, 

When  all  must  kiss  the  chast'ning-  rod, 
May  you  to  realms  beyond  the  sky 

Be  call'd,  to  dwell  in  peace  with  God. 
'Tis  not  because  of  princely  fare, 

Nor  " Ninety's"  speed  o'er  splendid  track, 
That  swift,  and  safely,  bore  us  there,. 

And  safe,  and  swiftly,  brought  us  back. 
Ah,  no !  but  'tis  because  you  stand 

Where  noble  friends  before  you  stood  ; 
Who  recognized  throughout  the  land, 

Our  noble,  peerless  Brotherhood. 

But  hark  !  I  hear  a  mighty  sound  ; 
'Tis  circling  near  from  States  remote  ; 

It  makes  the  very  earth  resound, 

8 


114  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

As  springing-  from  one  sing-le  throat ; 
It  is  my  brothers'  thankful  cry, 

Which  hovers  o'er  my  feeble  pen  ; 
Twelve  thousand  tong-ues  resounding-  high 

In  one  sincerely  felt  Amen. 


CHRISTMAS. 

Let  the  bells  peal  along-, 

With  vibrations  of  song-, 
On  the  clear  frosty  air  of  the  nig-ht ; 

Let  them  sound  in  our  ears, 

Till  they  banish  our  fears, 
And  our  hearts  feel  the  thrills  of  delight ; 

For  old  Christmas  is  here, 

And  we  greet  it  sincere ; 
'Tis  a  time  when  we  sit  round  the  board  ; 

Our  dear  friends  from  afar, 

Find  the  doors  all  ajar, 
And  the  larder  with  good  things  well  stored. 

"Merry  Christmas  !"  we  cry, 
And  the  glance  of  each  eye 
Is  a  sure  indication  of  mirth  ; 

Let  the  wassail  bowl  flow 
In  the  radiant  glow, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  115 

Which  the  fire  sends  around  on  the  hearth  ; 

As  the  glasses  we  clink, 

Full  of  care-killing-  drink, 
Let  our  toasts  of  true  friendship  arise ; 

This  one  night  in  the  year, 

We  can  keep  back  the  tear, 
Which  too  often  is  found  in  our  eyes. 

Oh  !  I  love  the  dear  time 
That  I  sing1  in  my  rhyme, 

When  good  will  to  all  men  should  be  found 
In  our  hearts  and  our-brains, 
And  be  sung-  in  our  strains, 

Till  our  voices  in  union  resound. 
There  is  time  for  our  care — 
For  our  grief  and  despair — 

In  the  months  rolling  rapidly  by, 
But  to-night  we  must  sing, 
Ere  the  moments  take  wing, 

And  away  from  our  presence  they  fly. 


PLEASURE  AND   PASTIME. 

Thinks  I,  here's  the  month  pretty  near  at  an  end, 
And  how  have  I  squandered  my  time  ? 

I  pledged  myself,  truly,  this  year  I  would  send 
Every  month  to  the  Journal,  a  rhyme. 


116  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

My  subject?  I  don't  know  of  what  I  shall  write, 

But  patience,  dear  reader,  I'll  try 
And  give  you  a  confab,  took  place  t'other  night, 

Between  my  old  mother  and  I. 

The  noble  old  dame,  with  her  hair  silvered  o'er, 

Sat  close  by  my  side,  at  the  fire, 
The  ground  with  the  frost  of  December,  was  hoar, 

But  stilled  was  the  Storm  King's  ire. 
Her  eyes  labored  hard  thro'  the  mists  of  the  years, 

To  read  the  Good  Word,  but  in  vain. 
She  laid  down  the  book  'mid  her  fast  falling  tears, 

And  thus,  of  old  age  did  complain. 

"  Oh  Shandy,  my  life-tide  is  ebbing  away, 

The  gloom  gathers  fast,  and  I  feel 
A  dread  of  the  dawn  of  eternity's  day— 

That  soon  shall  its  terrors  reveal. 
A  pilgrimage  here  on  this  earth  I  have  made, 

Yet,  life  has  had  blessings  for  me. 
But  Shandy,  acushla  I.I'm  greatly  afraid 

An  orphan,  you  shortly  will  be." 

"My  mother,"  I  said,  as  I  kissed  her  dear  brow  ; 

Touched  lightly  by  sixty  odd  years, 
"Cheer  up,  let  my  future  not  trouble  you  now, 

No  need  for  your  fast  falling-  tears, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  117 

Because  there's  an  old  woman's  daughter  I  know, 
Possessed  of  both  beauty  and  grace, 

Who  fervently  prays  to  the  tomb  you  may  go, 
Until  she  steps  into  your  place." 

God  bless  me  !  the  change  on  her  features  that 
came, 

Was  joyful,  indeed,  to  behold  ; 
Life  kindled  anew,  and  you'd  say  the  dear  dame 

Was  neither  decrepit  nor  old. 
'Twas  always  my  pkin  when  she  talked  about 
death, 

To  tell  her,  another  was  nigh 
Who'd  care  for  her  son,  she'd  recover  her  breath, 

And  the  olden  time  glance  of  her  eye. 

My  brothers — all  you  of  the  Benedict-clan — 

Whose  wives  are  inclined  to  complain, 
Who'll  tell  you  they're  dying,  just  follow  my  plan, 

Console  them  in  just  such  a  strain. 
Yes  tell  them,  as  I  told  my  mother  that  night ; 

I'll  wager  my  life  all  their  aches, 
Their  pains,  and  their  ailments,  will  quickly  take 
flight, 

If  not  I  will  forfeit  the  stakes. 

"  Ah  Shandy,  you  rascal,  you'd  wish  I  were  dead 
And  out  of  your  sight  in  the  grave." 


118  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

"  Oh  no,  my  dear  mother,"  I  soothingly  said, 
"  'Tis  yourself  about  orphans  did  rave." 

"  But  Shandy,  confess,  you've  a  wife  in  your 

eye." 
"Yes,  mother,  resplendent  in  charms, 

And  just  in  a  month  from  the  moment  you  die 
I'll  have  the  dear  girl  in  my  arms." 

"  You  rascal,  I'll  live  to  defeat  all  your  plans, 

When  the  evening  arrives  you  will  see 
Me  step  to  the  altar,  forbidding  the  bans, 

No  grandmother  titles  for  me." 
I  kissed  her  good  night,  I  vacated  my  seat, 

To  meet  with  as  jolly  a  crew 
As  ever  tripped  lightly,  on  musical  feet, 

In  the  ball-room  of  "  One-Fifty-Two." 

Dear  reader,  in  dreams  have  you  ever  been  bless'd 

With  views  of  those  mansions  of  light, 
Where  souls,  weary  laden,  find  refuge  and  rest, 

In  those  realms  of  endless  delight  ? 
A  counterpart  here,  on  this  earth  you  would  find 

That  night  of  our  annual  ball, 
The  sight  would  be  always  engraved  on  your  mind 

Of  splendor  adorning  our  hall. 

Flags,  banners,  and  bunting,  suspended  in  air, 
With  mirrors — life-size — on  the  wall. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  119 

Choice  painting's,  selected  with  excellent  care, 

Profusely  adorning-  the  hall. 
And  rare  birds,  whose  melody  swell'don  the  night, 

In  waves  of  voluptuous  song, 
With  fountains  that  played  in  the  chandelier's 
light, 

Admired  by  a  beautiful  throng-. 

The  hours  flew  by  on  wing-ed  feet  as  we  lanced 

To  music's  most  ravishing-  thrill, 
The  minutes  but  seconds  all  seemed  as  we  danced 

The  schottische,  the  waltz,  and  quadrille. 
Gray  streaks  in  the  east  broug-ht  the  night  to  a 
close, 

The  moments  too  rapidly  flew  ; 
A  night  that  will  ne'er  be  forgotten  by  those 

In  the  ball-room  of  "  One-Fifty-Two." 

I  jumped  into  bed  a  short  nap  to  secure, 

In  prayers  not  a  second  did  waste, 
My  eyes  were  just  closed,  when  a  voice  at  the  door 

Said,  "  Shandy,  your  wanting  in  haste, 
You're  marked  on  the  board,  so  be  off  with  your 
train," 

The  caller  exclaimed  with  a  sneer. 
And  up  from  my  heart  that  was  surging  in  pain 

I  cursed  him  in  language  sincere. 


120  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

MY  CASTLE  IN   SPAIN. 

I've  a  castle  near  a  wild  wood, 

Trellised  o'er  with  ivy  green  ; 
Where  I've  often  played  in  childhood, 

And  in  older  years  am  seen. 
There  I  g-o  to  sit  and  ponder, 

After  many  a  toilsome  hour, 
Where  my  heart  can  throh  the  fonder, 

In  a  sun-lit  dreamer's  bower. 

In  this  castle  lives  a  maiden, 

True  and  tender  as  the  dove ; 
One  whose  heart  is  over-laden 

With  the  purest  kind  of  love. 
She  has  sunny  ringlets  flowing-, 

O'er  her  neck  and  shoulders,  too, 
And  her  lips  are  ripe  and  glowing1, 

With  the  cherry's  crimson  hue. 

1  have  gilded  coaches  rolling-, 

On  the  gra veiled  walks  around ; 
Blooded  steeds,  which  need  controlling-, 

As  they  restive  paw  the  ground  ; 
But  my  grooms  are  skilled  and  daring-, 

Every  man  within  my  train, 
Who  has  brand  new  livery  wearing-, 

Loves  my  castle  built  in  Spain. 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  121 

There  are  trees,  where  birds,  delighted, 

Sing-  in  chorus  loud  and  long- ; 
I  can  never  say  I'm  slighted, 

For  they  give  me  joyous  song1. 
I  have  fountains  constant  playing', 

In  the  sunlight  on  the  lawn  ; 
And  the  breeze  keeps  hammocks  swaying-, 

Where  my  vassals  sleep  till  dawn. 

Mirth  and  music,  fun  and  laughter, 

Ev'ry  moment,  all  may  hear; 
From  the  draw-bridge  to  the  rafter, 

There  is  neither  care  nor  fear ; 
For  each  moment  has  its  pleasure, 

And  we  many  bumpers  drain, 
All  lio\v  o'er  with  honest  measure, 

In  my  castle  built  in  Spain. 

1  have  friends  who  sit  beside  me, 

All  like  brothers  tried  and  true ; 
They  have  ne'er  been  known  to  chide  me, 

ISTor  reflect  on  what  I  do  ; 
In  their  eyes  I  read  affection, 

All  are  sociably  inclined, 
Not  a  single  imperfection 

Can  be  found  in  heart  or  mind. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  have  coffers  flowing-  over 

With  the  treasures  of  the  land, 
Where  they  are  you'll  soon  discover, 

If  you'll  join  my  happy  band. 
I  will  lead  you  straight  and  willing 

In  amongst  the  hoarded  gain, 
Where  you'll  find  your  bosom  thrilling 

At  nry  riches  o'er  in  Spain. 

'I  am  monarch  of  this  castle, 

And  I  reign  with  royal  power ; 
Not  a  liegeman  nor  a  vassal 

But  may  have  a  prince's  dower ; 
For  I  ne'er  can  miss  my  treasures, 

Tho'  they  millions  take  away, 
Still  they'll  leave  me  flowing  measures 

To  distribute  ev'ry  day. 

I  have  musty  tomes  of  learning-, 

Thoughts  of  men  long-  dead  and  g-one, 
Where  I  hourly  spend  discerning 

What  their  brains  were  bent  upon. 
Ancient  lore,  where  infant  Science 

Struggles  into  life  and  day  ; 
Written  with  a  sure  reliance 

That  upon  life's  page  'twould  stay. 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  123 

There  Religion,  pure  and  holy, 

At  her  altars  may  be  seen  ; 
Out  amongst  the  meek  and  lowly 

Oft  she  strays  with  modest  mien. 
In  her  footsteps  all  may  wander, 

For  she  leads  to  light  divine, 
To  a  castle  builded  yonder, 

Where  the  stars  of  glory  shine. 

I  would  like  to  stay  for  ever 

In  its  grand  old  massive  halls, 
Where  the  clouds  of  care  come  never, 

Nor  a  shade  of  trouble  falls. 
But,  alas  !  I  cannot  tarry, 

Save  to  give  my  weary  brain 
Time  to  rest  from  grievous  worry, 

In  my  castle  o'er  in  Spain. 


AIR   CASTLES. 

Dear  Kittie  :  Last  night  I  was  building 
A  beautiful  castle  in  Spain. 

I  sat  ornamenting  and  gilding, 
Tormented  with  torturing  pain. 

A  voice  all  around  me  kept  ringing, 
Like  musical  peals  from  above, 


124  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Some  fair  one  melodiously  sing-ing-, 
Of  compliments,  kisses,  and  love. 

My  castle  completed,  I  wandered 

O'er  walks  of  brig-lit,  velvety  g-reen. 
One  brief  little  moment  I  pondered 

On  who  I'd  select  as  my  queen  ; 
The  very  next  moment  I  found  her, 

As  Cupid  let  quiver  his  dart, 
And  there  on  my  bosom  I  crowned  her, 

The  queen  of  my  castle  and  heart. 

With  feeling's  of  exquisite  pleasure, 

We  dallied  the  evening-  along- ; 
'Twas  joy  to  my  heart  beyond  measure, 

To  hear  her  melodious  in  song-. 
With  compliments,  love,  and  sweet  kisses, 

The  moments  too  rapidly  flew ; 
A  pause  in  our  melting-  caresses 

Soon  told  me  my  darling  was  you. 

"Oh,  Heaven  !"  I  cried,  "in  thy  power 

Send  blessing-s,  the  choicest  above, 
To  give  to  my  queen  in  her  bower, 

With  compliments,  kisses,  and  love. 
I  awoke  suffocating-  with  pleasure, 

The  sun  throug-li  my  lattice  did  g-leam, 
And  faded  awaj^  was  my  treasure ; 

Dear  Kittie,  'twas  only  a  dream. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  125 

MOLLIE'S  WOOING. 

The  moon  was  just  creeping  up  over  the  hill, 

As  I  strolled  to  the  tryst  where  my  lover 
Was  waiting-.  My  heart  with  affection  did  thrill, 

The  dear  little  maid  to  discover. 
The  nightingale's  notes  full  of  melody  were, 
The  evening  was  balmy,  the  sweet  summer  air 
Was  laden  with  bloom  of  the  hawthorne  there, 
And  essence  of  newly-cut  clover. 

I  found  her  in  tears,  but  I  kissed  them  away, 
And  both  of  our  breaths  were  united  ; 
I  told  her  to  hurry  without  more  delay, 

Too  long  our  affections  were  plighted. 
I  showed  her  the  ring  and  I  told  her  the  priest 
Was  waiting  with  guests  to  partake  of  the  feast, 
I  could  see  that  her  weepingquite  suddenly  ceased, 
And  she  nestled  up  closely,  delighted. 

She  feared  that  her  mother  would  never  consent 

To  her  wedding  a  light-hearted  rover ; 
"If  you  take  her  advice,"  I  replied, "you'll  repent, 
And,  besides,  you  will  lose  a  true  lover." 
"Then  we'll  marry,  she  said,  "let  us  hasten  away 
Or  my  feelings  will  change  if  I  longer  delay." 
It  was  thus  I  won  Mollie,  the  frolicsome  fay, 
Mid  the  perfume  of  newly-cut  clover, 


126  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

TO  MISS  EMMA  AVERY. 

Written  after  reading  her  lines  on  "The  Engineer." 

Miss  Avery,  pardon  this  freak  of  my  Muse, 
To-nig-ht  she  insists  on  me  taking1  a  cruise 
All  over  the  string's  of  my  harp,  for  a  chime, 
To  tickle  your  fancy,  in  shape  of  a  rhyme  ; 
Perhaps  I  am  hasty  in  making-  my  bow, 
And  likely  to  g-et  myself  into  a  row, 
That  is  if  you  think  I  am  making-  too  free, 
Then  tram  all  your  g-uns  for  a  broadside  on  me. 

I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  write  ; 
My  g-oosequill  is  "down  in  the  corner"  to-nig-ht, 
Since  reading-  your  lines  so  truly  sincere 
In  praise  of  the  poor,  over-worked  engineer. 
Thinks  I  to  myself  "  Arrah  Shand}7,  avick, 
That  g-iii's  a  trump,  and  she's  g-ood  for  a  trick, 
No  nmtter  how  poor  be  the  cards  she  may  hold, 
There's  one  you  can't  purchase  f  or  blarney  or  gold. 
You'll  find  it  a  heart,  and  may  wag-er  your  life 
That  card  will  yet  make  her  an  engineer's  wife." 

God  knows  I  have  often  repined  at  my  lot, 
When'er  the  old  mill  Avasn't  steaming-  and  hot — 
And  this  is  the  clime,  and  the  time  of  the  year, 
To  torture  the  heart  of  the  poor  eng-ineer — 
I've  many  times  jumped  from  the  seat  in  a  rag-e 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  127 

And  thrown  my  old  hat  at  the  face  of  the  gauge  ; 
My  right  eye  devoted  to  watching  the  track ; 
The  left  one  admiring  the  pointer  trot  back  ; 
With  snowdrifts  ahead,  alongside,  and  behind  ; 
My  nose  of  an  indigo  hue  from  the  wind  ; 
When  slipping,  and  sliding,  and  crawling  along, 
No  prospect  to  cheer  me,  but  everything  wrong, 
In  midst  of  such  dire  desolation,  my  lot 
Is  sweetened  to  think  we're  not  wholly  forgot. 
And,  mind  you,  a  great  many  times  I  could  name 
Of  perilous  moments  which  add  to  our  fame  ; 
But  what  is  the  use  ?  I  would  rather  by  far 
Have  a  seat  by  your  side  in  a  drawing-room  car, 
And  whisper  my  gratitude  into  your  ear, 
As  thanks  for  your  lines  on  the  poor  engineer. 

I  hope  you'll  not  think  I  have  too  much  to  do 
By  asking  a  short,  little  question  of  you, 
"Have  you  a  young  chap  within  glance  of  your 

eye 

Who  throws  you  a  kiss  as  he  passes  you  by  ; 
Who  makes  you  a  movement — a  wave  of  the 

hand  ? 

No  matter,  so  long  as  you  both  understand." 
Your  answer  to  me  will  be  "yes,"  I'll  go  bail 
Your  lover  is  some  noble  knight  of  the  rail, 
Who  has  earned  his  spurs,  and  will  wear  them 

forever, 


128  SHANDY   MAGUIKE. 

By  faithful  attention  to  throttle  and  lever  ; 
If  not  will  you  grant  my  most  earnest  desire, 
Reflect,  and  become  Mrs.  Shandy  Maguire  ? 

How  happy  I'd  feel  on  the  railroad  of  life 

If  I  had  a  girl  like  you  for  a  wife. 

Pd  scorn  all  dangers,  privations,  and  dread, 

My  heart  would  be  light,  not  an  ache  in  my  head , 

We'd  live  just  as  happy  as  birds  in  a  cage, 

Surrounded  by  offspring  to  bless  our  old  age  ; 

And,  now,  my  dear  friend,  do  not  think  me  too 

bold 

By  saying  you'd  suit  me,  no  matter  how  old. 
I  don't  care  a  fig  for  a  girl  of  sixteen, 
No  more  than  I  love  stealing1  apples  when  green ; 
With  grapes  'tis  the  same,  don't  we  prize  them 

the  most, 
And  find  them  delicious,  when  touched  by  the 

frost  ? 

Don't  think  your  admirer  inclined  to  a  joke 
When  saying— old  pipes  are  the  best  for  a  smoke  ; 
The  wreathes  from  a  dudeen  are  sweeter  by  far, 
Than  those  from  a  meerschaum, or  fragrant  ciga  r; 
Just  so  with  a  woman,  with  grapes,  and  my  pipe, 
She's  always  the  sweetest  when  lusciously  ripe  ; 
These  similes  all  may  sound  vulgar  to  you, 
They're  such  as  I  have  but  you'll  find  they  are 

true. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  129 

In  behalf  of  the  boys  I  return  you  my  thanks, 
I  hope  you  will  win  a  good  prize  from  our  ranks, 
A  brave-hearted,  handsome,  and  dashing-  young 

gent, 
Who'll  ne'er  give  you  cause  of  your  choice  to 

repent ; 

If  such  a  young  fellow  you  fail  to  procure, 
Just  drop  me  a  line,  and  I'll  answer  you  sure. 
Who  knows  but  together  we'll  yet  have  the  road, 
Assisting  each  other  to  carry  life's  load. 


SHOW  MERCY  TO  THE  ERRING. 

Show  some  mercy  to  the  erring, 

Do  not  kick  a  brother  down ; 
Let  him  feel  your  clasp  fraternal, 

And  conceal  the  cruel  frown ; 
For  his  heart  is  only  human, 

And  temptation's  very  strong ; 
Had  he  but  superior  reason, 

He  could  guard  against  the  wrong. 

If  our  hearts  were  all  transparent, 

And  exposed  to  other's  view, 
We  might  not  be  so  determined 

Fallen  brothers  to  pursue ; 

9 


130  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

But  while  hid  from  observation 
Are  our  many  vicious  deeds, 

We  will  swing  the  lash  of  torture 
On  our  victim  'till  he  bleeds. 

I  have  heard  "stop  thief"  resounding 

On  the  streets  before  to-day, 
From  the  throats  of  cunning-  rascals, 

Who  could  hide  their  theft  away ; 
While  the  luckless  wretch  who  pilfer'd 

A  much  needed  loaf  of  bread, 
Was  condemned  before  the  people, 

And  away  to  prison  led. 

If  a  sister  errs  she  never 

Can  regain  the  ground  she  lost ; 
And  her  heartless  sex  are  ready 

To  condemn  her  acts  the  most ; 
They  will  not  reflect  in  pity 

On  the  ills  she  must  endure, 
But  they  scourge  her  with  a  vengeance, 

While  her  wronger  is  secure. 

If  we'd  judge  mankind  in  mercy, 
We  would  surely  fill  the  plan, 

That  our  Saviour  from  the  Mountain 
Gave  for  government  of  man ; 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  131 

And  perhaps  He'd  judge  us  kindly, 
When  we'd  stand  before  His  throne, 

For  the  mercy  shown  to  others 
Will  to  us  by  Him  be  shown. 


THE  REPLY  TO  "A  REQUEST"  OF  L.  C.  W. 

Ah !  here  comes  the  Journal,  'tis  promptly  on 
time, 

Perusing  its  pages  to  me  is  a  pleasure ; 
I  eagerly  gloat  o'er  each  letter  and  rhyme, 

Regardless  of  purity,  diction  or  measure. 
Who  cares  for  a  lack  of  grammatical  rules  ? 

They  never  were  written  by  critics  or  scholars, 
Who  boast  of  the  years  they  have  slumbered  in 
schools, 

Then  value  a  man  by  his  number  of  dollars. 

What's  here  ?    Why  a  little  request,  as  I  live, 
I  judge  on  perusal  it  comes  from  a  brother. 

Who,  in  a  few  lines,  a  tough  subject  can  give, 
When  making  reply  to  the  son  of  my  mother. 

I  never  could  swallow  historical  lore, 

'Twas  always  considered  a  sign  of  good  breed 
ing 

To  sit  with  a  few  of  the  boys  at  the  door, 
And  mimic  all  those  who  were  fond  of  such 
reading. 


132  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"Perhaps  I'm  a  nobleman  traveling-  incog-, 
Who  squandered  my  youth  near  the  lakes  of 

Killarney  :  " 

Perhaps  at  New  York  I  have  seen  your  phizog, 
And  heard  your  sweet  tong-ue  running-  over 

with  blarney. 
In  heraldry's  books  noble  lineage  I  trace  : 

I  am  one  of  the  Macs,  and  will  ever  stand  by 

her; 
Consigned  to  oblivion  in  shame  and  disgrace 

Be  the  renegade  wretch  who  would  basely  deny 
her. 

I  fain  would  reply  to  your  honest  request, 

Provided  my  Muse  was    accomplished   and 

ready ; 
Of  late  she's  indulging-  in  indolent  rest, 

And  rather  inclined  to  be  prudish  and  steady. 
And  yet  what  a  subject,  'tis  worthy  the  pen 

Of  learning's  most  noble  and  gifted  of  sages, 

To  sing  of  fair  daughters  and  brave-hearted  men 

That  Erin  can  boast  on  her  history's  pages. 

Each  hill-top  and  valley  adorning  her  land, 
Have  witnessed  the  tide  of  her  sons'  crimson 

slaughter ; 
Her  passes  had  spartans,  each  brave-hearted 

band 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  133 

Have  struggled  for  freedom  till  blood  ran  like 

water. 

And  centuries  hence,  should  the  fight  be  prolonged , 
Her  tyrants  will  find  in  her  cause  we  grow 

braver, 
Her    martyrs    on    scaffolds  declared  she  was 

wronged, 

When  dying,  their  latest  fond  breath  was  "God 
save  her." 


In  life's  early  years  through  her  gem-spangled 

fields, 

I  sported  my  happiest,  sunniest  hours, 
Inhaling  perfume  that  the  sweet-brier  yields, 

And  weaving  rich  garlands  of  beautiful  flowers. 
Long  years  have  elapsed  since  I  parted  her  shores, 

And  memory  fails  to  recall  early  faces, 
Yet,  land  of  my  birth,  from  my  heart's  richest 

stores, 

I  send  you  an  offspring's  fond  love  and  em 
braces. 

Though  dear  to  my  heart  is  the  land  of  my  birth, 
And  worthy  of  true  patriotic  affection, 

Yet,  dearer  Columbia,  fair  queen  of  the  earth, 
That  gives  the  oppressed  of  all  nations  protec 
tion. 


134  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Oh,  long-  may  her  banner  float  gloriously  free, 
O'er  millions  of  men  in  fraternal  communion, 

Proud  emblem  of  freedom  on  land  and  on  sea, 
All  hail  to  the  starry-gemmed  flag1  of  thisUnion. 


BABY'S  WELCOME. 

Come,  my  baby,  till  I  kiss  you, 

On  your  flushy,  frowsy  face. 
You  will  get  a  royal  welcome 

To  our  humble  little  place. 
We  have  waited  for  your  coming 

With  anxiety  sincere, 
But  the  Lord  be  thanked,  my  cherub, 

You  are  landed  safely  here. 

'Tis  a  world  bleak  and  cheerless, 

Which  you've  entered  to  reside, 
But  a  heart  both  brave  and  fearless, 

Can  enjoy  its  sunny  side. 
We  will  g-uard  you  late  and  early, 

Give  you  most  devoted  care, 
'Till  you're  old  enough  to  battle 

With  its  variable  air. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  135 

Ah !  your  mother's  eyes  are  beaming 

From  beneath  your  tiny  lids, 
And  they  send  me  backward  dreaming, 

Mongst  the  songs  of  Katydids  ; 
By  the  moonlight,  in  the  valley, 

Where  we  rambled  side  by  side, 
On  the  evening  when  she  promised 

To  become  my  blooming  bride. 

Little  stranger  !  there  is  pleasure 

In  recalling  such  a  scene. 
I  would  not  exchange  my  treasure 

For  the  ransom  of  a  queen. 
You  will  find  her  true  and  tender 

And  affectionate  to  thee ; 
She'll  be  gentle  and  devoted, 

As  she's  always  been  to  me. 

When  you're  old  enough  to  toddle 

With  your  dimpled  hand  in  mine, 
We  will  ramble  out  together, 

And  I'll  cull  you  flowers  fine  ; 
We  will  listen  to  the  warbling 

Of  the  birds  upon  the  trees, 
And  amid  the  scented  clover, 

We  will  chase  the  humming  bees. 


136  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

We've  a  cozy  cot,  to  lull  you 

Into  quiet,  peaceful  rest ; 
And  you're  sure  of  healthy  nurture 

From  your  mother's  tender  breast ; 
And  we'll  lavish  on  you  kindness, 

And  we'll  fondle  you  with  love, 
For  you  look  just  like  an  angel 

Heaven  sent  us  from  above. 


HOPE,  THE  DECEIVER. 

There  are  moments  when  life  does  not  seem  worth 
possessing, 

When  faint  and  exhausted  we're  glad  to  lie 
down ; 

When  Miss  Fortune,  instead  of  donating-  a  bless 
ing, 
Repulses  us  off  with  a  withering-  frown. 

When  we  count  on  a  share  of  her  manifold  treas 
ures, 

The  whimsical  jade  is  uncertain  and  coy  ; 
And  she  guards  in  a  miserly  manner  her  meas 
ures, 
A  portion  of  which  we  would  gladly  enjoy. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  137 

Many  times  I  have  tender'd  unbounded  affection, 
And  earnestly  sued  for  a  smile  in  exchange  ; 

But  I  never  yet  got  her  false  heart  in  subjection, 
Although  I  have  tried  till  my  brains  I'd  de 
range. 

She  is  like  a  young  maiden,  light-hearted  and 

fickle, 
Who  boasts  of  her  conquests,  still  seeking  for 

more — 

Like  a  fair  one  who  oft  kept  my  heart  in  a  pickle — 
The  same  as  she  did  many  others  before. 

But  for  Hope,  the  deceiver,  in  language  uncivil, 
I'd  rail  at  her  hourly,  for  days  that  are  g'one, 

When  she  treated  me  worse  than  her  kinsman, 

the  Devil, 
E'en  now  she  deludingly  beckons  me  on. 

I  will  follow  once  more  and  perhaps  my  devotion 
May  meet  from  the  damsel  a  fitting  reward  ; 

Who  can  tell  but  at  last  she  has  taken  the  notion, 
To  change  into  smiles  all  the  tears  of  the  bard  ? 


138  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

TO  THE  ROBIN  RED-BREAST. 

Hear  the  robin  red-breast  full  of  harmony  trill, 
As  he  gathers  the  crumbs  which  I  placed  on  the 

sill. 

For  his  simple  repast  he  repays  me  in  song-, 
Which  he  pours  from  his  throat  in  glad  numbers 

along-. 

He  is  joyous,  domestic,  and  free  from  all  care  ; 
He  will  hop  to  within  a  few  feet  of  my  chair  ; 
He  is  fearless,  because  of  the  kindness  he's  shown, 
And  'tis  seldom  he  leaves  me  to  ponder  alone. 

Little  red-breasted  warbler,  you've  found  out  the 

art, 
Which  your  instinct  has  taught  you  will  reach  to 

my  heart ; 
For  each  note  strikes  a  chord  of  affection,  whose 

tone 

Will  respond  to  no  touch  but  of  music  alone  ; 
And  your  melody  bubbles  in  fountains  so  bright, 
That  I  gladly  enjoy  every  song  with  delight, 
And  I  feel  full  of  praise  for  the  gifts  you  bestow, 
With  your  sense-charming  song  in  the  sun's 

golden  glow. 

'Mongst  the  denizens  winging  their  way  through 

the  air, 
Oh,  I  prize  you  the  dearest  of  all  that  are  there; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  139 

For  tradition  relates  at  the  cross  you  were  found, 
When  the  blood  of  the  Saviour  flowed  to  the 

ground, 

And  in  pity  your  breast  you  plunged  into  the  tide, 
Where  it  crimsoned  your  plumage  on  Calvary's 

side. 

Full  of  gentleness  ever,  dear  songster,  you'll  be, 
And  you'll  always  be  welcome,  sweet  warbler,  to 

me. 


TO  MRS.  E.  M.  HOOKER. 

DEAR  MADAM : 

Since  first  I  was  kicked  through  the  portals  of  life, 

To  battle  my  way  in  oppression  and  pain, 
When  seeking  subsistence  in  warfare  and  strife, 

With  naught  to  assist  me  but  muscle  and  brain, 
I've  met  with  far  more  than  my  share  of  the  ills 
That  are  known  to  us  all  as  "  mortality's  pills,  " 
I  have  seen  the  cold  giance  of  ineffable  scorn, 
Flung  into  my  face  since  the  hour  I  was  born, 
And  many  times,  madam,  I've  fallen  by  the  way, 
Discouraged,  down-hearted,  depressed  with  the 

fray. 

The  good  I  have  done  as  I  journey'd  along. 
Was  always  pronounced  inexcusably  wrong ; 


140  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Suspicion  surrounds  me,  and  you  'mongst  the 
rest, 

Accuse  me  of  chasing1  the  bauble  of  fame  ; 
Dear  madam,  I  hope  you  were  really  in  jest, 

When  thinking  me  guilty  of  changing  my  name. 

What  object,  in  Heaven's  name,  had  you  in  view, 

To  call  me  so  plainly,  "  a  wonderful  lyre  ?  " 
I'm  really  surprised  at  a  lady  like  you, 
For  doubting  my  name  to  be  Shandy  Maguire.  • 
That  noble  old  name  down  the  ages  has  run, 
Bequeathed  by  the  father  to  honor  the  son ; 
I  peer  through  the  gloom  of  the  years,  and  I  trace 
A  noble,  a  princely,  a  chivalrous  race, 
Their  swords  from  their  sheathes  ever  ready  to 

draw, 

When  fighting  for  justice  and  scorning  the  law ; 
The  fat  of  the  land  they  would  always  procure, 
And  pass  it  around  through  the  lean  of  the  poor ; 
But,  madam,  alas,  what  a  change  from  the  past ; 
The  sky  of  the  noble  Maguires  is  o'ercast 
With  ominous  clouds,  this  degenerate  time, 
When  one  of  the  family  figures  in  rhyme. 
Tormented  by  you,  and  some  others  whose  game 
Is  telling  the  public  I  don't  know  my  name ; 
You i-  questions  were  asked  me  so  often  before, 
They  grieved  my  poor  heart  till  it  bled  at  the  core. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  141 

I've  many  times  ran  to  the  mirror,  to  stare, 
And  see  if  I  really  and  truly  stood  there ; 
Now  madam,  I'll  furnish  you  proof  from  a  dame, 

Who'll  quickly  convince  you  her  son  is  no  lyre, 
And  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed  of  the  name, 

That  many  suspect  isn't  Shandy  Maguire. 

"Dear  mother" — I  always  address  her  as  "dear," 

' 'What  is  it  my  son  ? ' '  she  replied  with  a  laugh— 

"Oh,  something1  surprising,  I '11  sing  in  your  ear, 

And  mother,   don't  think  I  am  tipping  you 

chaff." 

Now  madam,  I'm  skillfully  versed  in  the  art 
Of  working  my  way  to  an  old  woman's  heart, 
With  young  ones,  alas !  there's  a  ditl'erence  there, 
I  might  just  as  well  whistle  jigs  to  a  bear, 
As  make  a  young  woman  believe  what  I  s&y, 
When  talking  of  love  in  a  neighborly  way. 
A  certain  young  lady,  for  five  years  at  least, 
I'm  asking  to  let  me  go  talk  to  the  priest, 
Her  only  replies  are  "be  patient  and  cool, 
Don't  bother  me,  Shandy,  you  act  like  a  fool." 
I  sometimes  believe  she  is  heartless  and  cold, 
Perhaps  I'll  succeed  when  the  darling  grows  old. 

But  back  to  my  subject :  "Dear  mother,  my  mind 
Is  sorely  distracted,  no  peace  can  I  find  ; 


142  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I'm  bothered,  tormented,  derided  in  scorn, 
I  wish  in  my  heart  I  had  never  been  born." 
A  moment  I  paused,  to  recover  my  breath, 
My  mother,  she  seem'd  in  the  stupor  of  death, 
She  knew  every  word  I  expressed  was  the  truth, 
I  never  was  caug-ht  telling-  lies  in  my  youth  ; 
Whenever  I  chanced  of  an  evening1  to  roam, 
She'd  ask  in  the  morning-,  the  time  I  came  home, 
I'd  tell  her  the  truth,  she  would  say  she  was  sure 
I  didn't  make  much  of  a  fuss  at  the  door  ; 
I  didn't  indeed  ;  she'd  be  snoring  asleep, 
As  in  through  a  window  I'd  cautiously  creep, 
My  boots  in  my  pockets,  to  g-uard  against  noise, 
When  having  a  game  of  "  Ould  Sledg-e  "  with  the 

boys. 

I  slept  with  my  brother,  an  urchin  called  Mick, 
And  he  was  the  rooster  could  tumble  and  kick. 
His  feet  at  an  ang-le  of  ninety  degrees 
Would  fly  in  a  tang-enib  away  from  his  knees ; 
He'd  hurl  me  out  of  the  bed,  in  his  might, 
To  dream  on  the  floor  all  the  rest  of  the  night. 
I  dare  not  complain,  as  that  boy  was  no  fool, 
Altho'  he  ne'er  saw  the  inside  of  a  school. 
He'd  rifle  my  pockets  of  Killikinnick, 
He'd  smoke  my  old  pipe  till  his  stomach  grew 

sick, 
He'd  make  me  divide  all  the  pennies  I'd  win, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  143 

To  keep  him  from  telling  the  way  I  got  in. 
Again  I  am  off  in  what  seems  but  a  dream, 

A  dear,  happy  dream  of  my  juvenile  years ; 
Now  madam,  I'm  back  to  yourself  and  my  theme ; 

Spun  out  till  the  close  amid  fast  falling-  tears. 

"Dear  mother,  come  gaze  on  me,  straight  in  the 
eye, 

And  answer  my  questions,  don't  think  me  in 

fun, 
Please  give  me  a  candid  and  truthful  reply, 

For  Heaven's  sake  tell  me  if  I  am  your  son  ? 
Are  you  my  old  mother  ?  be  sure  you  are  right, 
Does  Shandy  Maguire  stand  before  you  to-night  ? 
Or  is  it  some  other  spalpeen  in  his  place, 
Who's  bringing  the  family  name  to  disgrace  ? 
Sometimes  in  the  South  I'm  advancing  a  claim, 
And  beating  the  boys  on  the  strength  of  my  name, 
Again,  in  the  West,  in  a  round-house  I'm  seen, 
Soliciting  alms  in  a  manner  that's  mean, 
Right  here,  at  my  home  I  find  little  relief, 
The  story  flies  round,  I 'ma  pilfering  thief ; 
Such  rumors  are  really  injurious,  because 
The  Lord  only  knows   where  the    villains  will 

pause ; 

I  wouldn't  at  all  be  surprised  if  I'd  hear 
The  sheriff  was  playing  with  hemp  at  my  ear, 


144  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  sending  me  off  from  the  troubles  of  life 
For  running  away  with  another  man's  wife. 
Or  some  such  a  mean,  inexcusable  crime, 
Bad  luck  to  the  day  I  first  jingled  a  rhyme  ; 
Since  then  I  can  date  many  ills,  for  I  swear, 
I'm  troubled  just  now  with  far  more  than  my 

share. 

'Oh,  what's  in  a  name  ?'  said  a  moonshiny  youth, 
Whose  course  of  true  love  wasn't  steered  among 

flowers, 

I  really  can't  tell  about  his,  but  in  truth, 
Dear  mother,  I  think  there's  the  devil  in  ours." 

Like  a  sprig  of  sixteen,  the  old  girl  arose, 

Her  knitting  unconsciously  fell  from  her  hand, 
Her  spectacles  dropped  from  her  eyes  to  her  nose, 

And  there  in  amazement  before  me  did  stand. 
"Poor  boy,"  were  the  words  she  expressed, "what 

a  loon ; 

You're  always  deranged  at  the  full  of  the  moon." 
"  There  are  two  of  us  so,"  I  replied ;  then  her  eye 

Suggested  a  hint  from  her  reach  to  retire. 
My  very  next  chance,  I'll  embrace  it  and  try 

To  prove  to  you,  madam,  I'm  Shandy  Maguire. 


SHANDY    MAGUIRE.  145 

LOSS  OF  THE  SCHOONER  "PERSIAN,"  ON 
LAKE  HURON. 

Sad  and  dismal  is  the  tale, 

Which  I'll  relate  to  you, 
About  the  schooner  Persian, 

Her  officers  and  crew, 
Who  sank  beneath  the  stormy  deep, 

To  rise  in  life  no  more  ; 
Where  winds  with  desolation  sweep, 

Lake  Huron's  rock-bound  shore. 

They  left  Chicago  on  their  lee, 

Their  sing-ing-  did  resound ; 
All  hearts  were  full  of  joyous  glee, 

As  homeward  they  were  bound  ; 
They  little  thought  the  monster,  Death, 

Was  lurking  in  the  deep, 
And  they,  so  full  of  life  and  hope, 

Should  in  the  waters  sleep. 

In  mystery  their  doom  is  sealed, 

They  did  collide  some  say, 
And  that  is  all  will  be  revealed 

Until  the  judgment  day  ; 
When  the  angel  takes  his  stand, 

To  'wake  the  waters  blue, 
And  summon  forth, by  heaven's  command. 

The  ill-starr'd  Persian's  crew. 

10 


146  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

No  mother's  hand  was  there  to  press 

The  brow's  distracting-  pain  ; 
No  gentle  wife,  with  kind  caress, 

To  soothe  the  aching-  brain  ; 
No  lover  there,  no  sister  nig-h, 

Nor  little  ones  to  weep ; 
In  wat'ry  graves  henceforth  they'll  lie, 

Beneath  the  stormy  deep. 

Her  g-allant  captain  is  no  more, 

He  fills  a  seaman's  grave ; 
Beneath  the  deep,  off  Huron's  shore, 

Where  wind-tossed  waters  rave ; 
Unknown  the  spot,  and  hid  from  view 

His  manly,  lifeless  form  ; 
And  stilled  in  death  the  tar  so  true, 

Who  weathered  many  a  storm. 

Daiu'el  Sullivan,  her  mate, 

A  tar  as  bold  and  brave, 
As  ever  was  compelled  by  fate, 

To  fill  a  sailor's  grave ; 
He  will  be  weeped  for  as  a  friend, 

Alas  !  his  days  are  o'er, 
He  met  a  sad,  untimely  end, 

Near  Huron's  rock -bound  shore, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRB.  147 

Oh,  Dan,  your  many  friends  will  mourn 

That  fate  did  on  you  frown ; 
We'll  look  in  vain  for  your  return, 

To  your  adopted  town  ; 
We'll  miss  the  love-glance  of  your  eye, 

Your  hand  we'll  press  no  more, 
For  stilled  in  death,  old  friend,  you  lie 

Near  Huron's  rock-bound  shore. 

Her  sailors'  names  we  did  not  know, 

Excepting-  one  or  two  ; 
Down  in  the  deep  they  all  did  go, 

They  were  a  luckless  crew. 
Oh,  not  a  man  escaped  to  land . 

To  clear  the  mystery  o'er, 
Until  they  drift,  by  heaven's  command, 

In  lifeless  form  ashore. 

Around  Presque-Isle,  the  sea-birds  scream 

In  mournful  notes  along ; 
They're  chaunting  forth  the  requiem, 

The  dismal  funeral  song  ; 
They  skim  along  the  waters  blue, 

And  then  aloft  they  soar, 
In  memory  of  the  Persian's  crew, 

Near  Huron's  stormy  shore. 


148  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

TO  "  MOBILIAN." 

"  Mobil  ian,"  all  the  dreamy  past, 
In  fond  array,  each  friendly  face 
That  'round  me  in  those  days  were  cast 
Your  lines  recalled.     I  love  to  trace 
The  scenes  at  eve  where  oft  I've  strayed  ; 
The  myrtle  bower,  the  silent  glade, 
The  star  gemin'd  sky  of  deepest  blue  ; 
The  walk  where  lovers  went  to  woo, 
The  balmy  waves  of  rich  perfume, 
From  orange  groves  where  all  was  bloom  ; 
The  nightingale's  sweet  plaintive  song-, 
By  zephyrs  borne  swift  along, 
Until  the  atmosphere  around 
Gave  echo  to  the  charming  sound ; 
The  bay,  its  shores,  the  grove,  the  hill, 
Are  all  enshrined  in  mem'ry  still 
And  stereotyped  upon  my  heart. 

Your  lines  awoke  the  dreamy  whole — 
They  moved  by  panoramic  art 

Through  silent  mansions  of  my  soul. 

When  groping  through  the  gloom  of  years, 
When  toiling  on  in  grief  and  pain, 

With  scarcely  time  to  chase  the  tears 
That  dim  the  eye  and  flood  the  brain, 
seldom  backward  turn  to  view 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  149 

Those  scenes  that  wear  a  roseate  hue  ; 
Scenes,  with  a  retrospective  eye, 
We  trace,  amid  those  days  g-one  by, 
Where,  heart  entwined  in  heart,  the  twain 
Have  lived,  and  feared  not  future  pain, 
Until  the  parting  moment  drove 
Them  far  away  from  scenes  of  love. 
Your  lines  awoke  a  plaintive  thrill 
That  haunts  the  halls  of  mem'ry  still, 
And  I,  my  friend,  to-night  would  fain 
Prolong1  the  melancholy  strain, 
But  ruder  scenes  of  toil  and  strife 

Command  me  hence.     "  Mobilian  "  dear, 
Where'er  my  lot  be  cast  in  life, 

I'll  always  keep  your  precepts  near. 


FATHER  MATHEW  TEMPERANCE  SOCIETY. 

OSWEGO,  N.  Y.— TENTH  ANNIVERSARY,  1878. 

Old  mother,  a  decade  of  years  have  sped  on 
Since  I,  a  poor  waif,  weather-beat  by  the  storm, 

Approached  you  to  take  the  proud  title  of  "son," 
And  muster  myself  in  your  ranks  of  reform. 

At  annual  feasting  I've  always  been  here, 

To  read  you  a  song  and  partake  of  your  cheer  ; 

To-night  by  the  laws  of  both  custom  and  love, 


150  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  come,  as  of  yore,  my  affection  to  prove  ; 
And  till  but  one  drop  of  my  life- tide  remains — 
Till  it  stops  at  my  heart  and  congeals  in  my  veins, 
In  joy,  or  in  sorrow,  in  mirth,  or  despair, 
In  tempest,  or  sunshine,  foul  weather  or  fair, 
The  years  shall  still  find  me  as  onward  they  glide, 
In  person  or  spirit  right  here  at  your  side  ; 
I  speak  from  experience,  my  words  bear  their 
weight, 

Through  waves  of  temptation  I've  passed  and 
proved  true, 

I've  yielded  obedience  both  early  and  late 
To  all  the  wise  rules  promulgated  by  you. 

So  much  for  myself,  now,  my  noble,  old  dear, 
I'll  on  with  my  task  without  further  delay  ; 
Please  grant  me  a  moment  or  two  at  your  ear, 

To  talk  of  affairs  in  a  family  way. 
Bethink  you  the  time  when  you  first  settled  down 
And  made  your  abode  in  this  tax-ridden  town, 
With  looks  of  suspicion  your  coming  was  chilled, 
But   soon   our   old  homestead  grew  gloriously 

filled ; 
In  here  came  the  husbands  when  led  by  their 

wives, 

And  pledged  to  live  sober  the  rest  of  their  lives. 
So  times  sped  along  and  our  numbers  increased, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  151 

And  guest  followed  guest  to  partake  of  the  feast, 
With  song-,  and  with  chorus,  in  mirth  and  good 
cheer, 

We  drifted  away  from  rum,  whiskey  and  beer. 
We  sat  here  for  hours  meditating  on  rules  ; 

Lawmakers  were  scarce  in  our  midst,  but  a  few 
Spruce,dignified  Solomons,fresh  from  the  schools, 

Supposed  they  could  act  as  it  pleased  them  to  do. 

But,  mother,  acushla  !  we  loved  you  too  well, 
We  sprang  to  our  posts  and  we  shortened  their 
sails, 

We  made  a  short  job  of  each  long-talking  swell, 
By  shaking  a  small  grain  of  salt  on  their  tales. 

Temptation  crept  in  and  dissensions  grew  rife, 

They  threatened,  alas  !  to  deprive  you  of  life  ; 

But,  darling  !  you  live,  you  survived  ev'ry  shock, 

We  soon  drove  the  black-sheep  away  from  the 

flock. 

To  those  who  were  honest  and  truly  sincere, 
We  always  rewarded  their  efforts  in  here  ; 
And  honored  them  well,  as  our  records  will  show, 
With  every  good  gift  in  our  power  to  bestow. 
To  those  who  proved  traitors  and  fell  by  the  way, 
Alas !  who  can  tell  where  they're  scattered  to 
day  ? 
Some  lie  in  their  graves  and  some  live  to  complain, 


152  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  curse  their  misfortune  for  drinking-  again. 

Many  more,  and  I'm  sure  that  their  numbers 
are  scores, 

They  sought  an  excuse  to  escape  through  our 
doors. 

You  saved  them,  and  then  they  denied  you  sup 
port, 

They  scamper'd  away  to  some  other  resort. 

Like  birds  when  full-fledged,  they  deserted  the 
nest, 

And  they  soug-ht  other  scenes,  well,  perhaps  they 

done  best. 
You've  more,  your  young-  grandsons,  who  think 

they  are  wise, 

They  wish  you  to  look  more  refined  in  their  eyes  ; 

They  scoff  at  their  father's  good  counsels,  and  say 

Their  granny  they'll  deck  out  in  fashion's  array, 

They'll  "re-organize  you,"  whatever  that  means, 

I  see  by  the  droll-looking-  glance  of  your  eye, 

You'll  never  elope  with  those  g-ents  in  their  teens, 

Who'd  quickly  desert  you  and  leave  you  to  die. 

Dear  mother,  now  banish  all  troublesome  fears, 
Your  first-born  sons  have  been  ever  the  same, 

They've  guided  you  on  o'er  the  pitfalls  of  years, 
And  here  by  your  side  they  will  add  to  your 
fame, 

Let  old  Time  roll  along-,  let  the  3Tears  pass  us  by, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  153 

We  have  strength  to  protect  you,  our  foes  we'll 

defy. 
There  is  peace  here  and  plenty  for  those  who  can 

shun, 

The  deadliest  poison  known  under  the  sun. 
Moral  suasion's  the  weapon  we  always  emplo3*, 
When  we  meet  with  the  foe  that  our  lives  would 

destroy ; 

Prohibition  may  do  for  those  slow  moving1  bands, 
Who   invoke    legislature    to    strengthen   their 

hands. 

Our  success  won  your  smiles  for  a  decade  of  years. 
We  are  robust  and  .hearty  to-night,  my  old 

dame, 
And  our  features  are  wreathed  with  smiles, 'stead 

of  tears, 
Which  we'll  wear  evermore  if  we  honor  your 

name. 


TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  SUNDAY  LABOR." 

You  ask  what  I  think  of  this  Sabbath-day  work, 

Or  if  there  is  cause  to  complain, 
When  a  man  is  denounced  as  a  "  good-for-naught 
shirk" 

For  refusing  to  go  with  his  train  ? 
Your  questions  I'll  answer  as  well  as  I  can 


154  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

With  all  the  respect  that  is  due 
To  one  of  your  sex,  from  a  kind-hearted  man 
Who'd  kneel  and  pay  homage  to  you. 

By  jo ve !  I  am  truly  in  love  with  your  pen ! 

Your  Muse  is  defiantly  hold, 
Such  women  as  you  are  worth  more  to  their  men, 

Than  their  weight  of  the  dross  we  call  gold. 
If  you  have  a  sister,  unmarried,  I  swear 

I'd  like  the  dear  creature  to  woo ! 
There's  nothing  would  brighten  my  prospects 
more  fair 

Than  a  chance  to  claim  kindred  with  you. 

With  Sabbath-day  work  we're  not  troubled  much 
here, 

We  thank  Mr.  Phelps  and  Sam  Sloan ; 
They  give  us  those  fift3T-two  days  every  year 

For  sins  of  the  week  to  atone. 
On  Sabbath-day  running  that's  all  I  can  say, 

Because  I'm  not  "pinched  by  the  shoe," 
But,  madam,  hereafter  on  Sunday  I'll  pray 

For  God  to  have  pity  on  you. 

Now,  madam,  draw  near,  I  will  whisper  a  plan, 
Should  the  like  ever  happen  again, 

You'll  find  it  will  aid  and  assist  the  "old  man," 
If  he  don't  want  to  go  with  the  train. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  155 

Don't  have  any  fear  for  him  losing-  his  job, 

Providing-  you'll  faithfully  do 
Your  part,  with  a  truly  affectionate  throb 

Of  wifely  devotion  in  you. 

Those  engine  despatchers  are  hard  chaps  to  fool, 

They  doubt  every  mournful  tale. 
But  madam,  I'll  give  you  a  short,  simple  rule — 

I  have  never  yet  known  it  to  fail : 
He  then  can  respond  to  a  call  with  a  will, 

Providing-  your  part  you  will  do 
The  engine  despatcher  will  see  he  is  ill, 

And  back  he  will  send  him  to  you. 

Rub  the  poor  fellow's  tong-ue  with  a  morsel  of 
chalk, 

'Twill  make  it  look  sickly  and  white  ; 
Hit  the  '  tickle-bone  '  in  his  left  elbow  a  knock  ; 

His  pulse  any  doctor  will  fright ; 
Then,  tell  him  his  mother-in-law  g'ot  a  fall, 

And  died  from  effects  of  it  too. 
His  features  will  blanch,  and  his  look  will  appal 

The  engine  despatcher,  and  you. 

Clasp  hands  across   States,  this   acquaintance 

beg-un 

'Twixt  you  and  myself  must  not  end. 
And,  madam,  I  tell  you,  devoid  of  all  fun, 


156  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I'm  proud  to  be  classed  as  your  friend. 
Write  on  for  the  edification  of  those 

Who  hazardous  labor  pursue, 
Pour  in  your  hot  shot  to  the  camps  of  our  foes, 

And  soon  they'll  strike  colors  to  you. 


WHERE  DO  THE  WICKED  SLEEP? 

"Where  do  the  wicked  sleep,  sexton,  come  tell  ? 
Where  in  your  gioomy  domain  do  they  dwell  ? 
Are  they  apart  from  the  true  and  the  just  ? 
Here  are  their  bones  left  to  mingle  in  dust  ? 
Point  out  their  graves  so  I'll  trample  in  scorn 
Over  them,  fiends  from  the  hour  they  were  born. 
Where  are  they  hidden  ?  No  name  can  I  trace ; 
Only  the  just  are  interred  in  this  place. 

Epitaphs  telling-  of  brave  men  and  true, 
Chiselled  in  marble,  exposed  to  my  view  ; 
Virtues  abundant  lie  under  the  ground, 
None  but  the  uprig-ht  of  earth  have  I  found. 
Surely  you  know  where  the  wicked  are  laid, 
Here  where  you   hid  them,  with  mattock   and 

spade ; 

Sexton,  its  bearing-s,  pray  have  you  forg-ot  ? 
Where  do  the  wicked  sleep  ?  point  out  the  spot. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  157 

Here  mausoleums  and  obelisks  tell 
Only  where  virtue  and  righteousness  dwell. 
Think  you  the  wicked  could  peacefully  rest 
Here  in  such  holiness,  here  'mid  the  blest  ? 
Monuments  grandly  on  all  sides  arise, 
Telling-  of  pure  angels  called  to  the  skies. 
Sexton,  for  decades  you've  wielded  the  hoe, 
Where  do  the  wicked  sleep  ?  surely  you  know." 

"Thirty  long  years  have  I  wrought  in  this  soil, 
Thousands  were  brought  who  required  my  toil ; 
Never  came  one  but  was  deeply  deplored, 
All  had  been  called  to  reside  with  the  Lord. 
Stranger,  you  know  what  the  proverb  has  said  : 
'Speak  only  good  when  you  mention  the  dead.' 
Judging  by  words  which  I  heard  at  each  bier, 
Only  the  just  have  I  buried  in  here. 

"Seek  you  elsewhere,  but  I  fear  you  will  fail. 
Human  decisions  don't  always  prevail. 
Judgments  erroneous  from  mankind  depart. 
No  one  yet  fathomed  the  depths  of  the  heart. 
Springs  there  lie  hidden,  unknown,  unexplored, 
Sealed  to  the  vision  of  all  but  the  Lord. 
He,  from  his  throne  with  an  allseeing  eye, 
Onlv  can  tell  where  the  wicked  ones  lie." 


158  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"ONLY  A  TRAMP." 

"  He's  only  a  tramp,"  said  the  papers, 

When  telling-  the  news  of  the  day, 
Of  how  a  poor  man  was  discovered, 

Just  breathing-  his  last  by  the  way. 
And  that  was  the  epitaph  written  ; 

And  scarcely  his  spirit  had  fled, 
When  many  around  him  had  gathered, 

To  morbidly  g-aze  on  the  dead. 

Messieurs,  let  us  pause  and  consider, 

Rig-lit  here  o'er  his  mortal  remains  ; 
A  clue  we,  perchance,  may  discover, 

'Twill  be  a  reward  for  our  pains. 
From  whence  had  he  come,  and  bound  whither, 

His  birth-place,  and  name  to  denote  ; 
What's  this  ?  Ah !  Messieurs,  'tis  a  letter 

Concealed  in  the  breast  of  his  coat. 

We'll  read  :  "  My  dear  husband,  this  letter 

I  write  to  you,  hoping-  'twill  be 
Another  strong-  link  in  love's  fetter, 

Which  binds  you  so  closely  to  me  ; 
My  heart's  dearest  throbs  of  affection 

I  send  to  you,  darling-,  and  pray 
Kind  Heaven,  for  health  and  protection, 

And  speedy  success  on  your  way," 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  159 

"  Our  children  are  silently  sleeping- ; 

I  many  times  kiss  them  for  you  ; 
But  Freddie  is  ailing-  from  weeping-, 

And  baby  is  troublesome  too. 
Yet  cheerfully,  darling-,  I  labor 

'Till  you  some  employment  secure, 
I'm  helped  by  a  kind-hearted  neighbor, 

Who  feels  for  the  friendless  and  poor.'' 

"  This  morning  our  Jennie  ran  sprightly, 

To  kiss  me,  she  whispered  me  :  '  ma, 
Kind  ang-els  converse  with  me  nightly, 

And  give  me  g-ood  tidings  of  pa.' 
God  favor  our  little  romancer 

With  virtuous  dreams  all  her  life. 
Impatiently  'waiting-  your  answer, 

Your  faithful,  affectionate  wife." 

Then  silently  stood  each  spectator  ; 

Their  eyes  were  o'erflowing-  with  tears  ; 
Their  lips — where  the  name  of  Creator, 

Had  never  been  mentioned  for  years — 
Were  now  breathing  prayers  full  of  pity 

To  God,  with  an  earnest  desire 
For  those  in  a  far  distant  city, 

Deprived  of  a  husband  and  sire, 


160  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

The  tale  can  be  told  by  that  letter, 

Denied  all  employment  at  home, 
His  wretched  condition  to  better, 

Away  o'er  the  land  he  did  roam. 
Repulsed  by  continued  denials, 

He  came  to  seek  rest  on  this  sod, 
At  last  there's  an  end  to  his  trials, 

He  rests  with  a  merciful  Go.d  ! 

And  "only  a  tramp  "  said  the  papers, 

When  telling  the  news  of  the  day, 
Of  how  that  poor  man  \vas  discovered 

Just  breathing  his  last  by  the  way ; 
That  was  the  brief  epitaph  written ; 

But  scarcely  the  letter  was  read 
Till  many  Samaritans  gathered, 

To  tenderly  care  for  the  dead. 


TO  DOCTOR  REYNOLDS. 

Dear  Doctor,  long  I've  thought  your  Muse  was 

dead, 

With  laurel  wreathed  'round  her  honored  head  ; 
But  when  your  poem,  written  for  the  Times, 
Came  duly  to  me  with  its  silvery  chimes. 
I  learned,  then,  there  was  no  cause  for  weeping, 
Because  the  dame  has  not  been  dead,  but  sleeping. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  161 

My  worthy  friend,  your  grand,  heroic  strain, 
Recalls  the  battle  scenes  of  strife  again, 
And  by  the  genius  of  your  gifted  pen, 
You've  lauded  Hancock  as  the  prince  of  men, 
And  urged  your  hero  to  the  foremost  place, 
To  make  him  win  the  Presidential  race. 
Your  honest  purpose,  I,  for  one,  admire, 
But  vain  the  labor  of  your  gifted  lyre  ; 
While  Tilden  lives,  and  he  aspires  to  run, 
You  might  as  well  fire  off  a  "  quaker  "  gun 
As  broadsides  such  as  you're  discharging  here, 
For  Doctor,  Tilden  has  the  race-course  clear. 

My  brother  bard — I  will  such  kinship  claim— 
Altho'  my  Muse  is  yet  unknown  to  fame, 
While  yours  may  hover  in  sublimest  flights, 
And  soar  around  the  grand  Olympic  heights, 
Mine,  poor  and  lowly,  in  her  native  sphere 
Is  recognized  on  some  occasions  here. 
I  now  suggest  a  short  co-partnership, 
'Twixt  you  and  I  upon  a  rhyming  trip ; 
We're  sure  to  make  a  good,  successful  cruise, 
And  either  one  must  own  the  lucky  Muse. 
Here  are  nry  plans  :  You  must  let  Hancock  slide, 
He  cannot  stem  the  fierce  politic  tide ; 
Then  chorus  up  for  Grant,  I  will  for  Tilden  sing, 

They  both  are  centers  of  each  inner  ring-. 

11 


162  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

If  Grant  should  win  we'll  have  the  Empire  sure, 
And  then,  old  friend,  you  can  repose  secure. 
Sir  Lawrence  Reynolds  you  are  sure  to  be, 
Besides,  a  bone  you  oft  can  throw  to  me. 
When  plenty  loads  your  noble  tables  down 
In  days  when  he  will  wear  the  kingly  crown. 

If  Tilden  wins,  then  by  the  Lord,  I  swear, 
I'll  give  you,  Doctor,  sure,  the  lion's  share ! 
I'll  grind  him  rhymes  out  at  a  railroad  pace, 
And  labor  hard  until  he  wins  the  race ; 
Then  dine  and  feast  you  like  a  brother  true 
On  dishes  very  seldom  touched  by  you, 
Provided,  Doctor,  you  a  cook  do  know, 
Who  understands  the  making  hash  from  crow. 


THE  RHYMER  TO  HIS  PEN.  . 

Come  here,  my  old  pen,  till  we  ramble  along, 
In  the  regions  of  fancy  and  the  realms  of  song. 
Disentangle  the  rushing,  tumultuous  throng 

Of  thought-mazes,  wild  in  my  brain. 
Now  down  in  the  ink,  and  my  subject  will  be 
Whatever  runs  freely,  beneath  this  green  tree ; 
If  you  prompt  it  in  scorn  or  chorus  in  glee, 

I'll  gladly  prolong  the  refrain. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  163 

You've  many  times  suffered  your  share  of  abuse, 
Since  plucked  from  the  wing-  of  Peg-  Flaherty's 

g-oose, 
Because,  my  old  friend,  you  have  failed  to  produce 

A  smile  on  the  features  of  all . 
But,  know  you,  the  numerous  critical  pack, 
Who  rush  in  their  ire  to  encumber  our  track, 
May  suffer  the  torture  of  thumbscrew  or  rack, 

If  on  them  with  vengeance  you  fall. 

True  sportsmen  have  never  perverted  their  aim 

By  firing  at  fowl  not  regarded  as  game, 

And  you,  my  companion,  must  do  just  the  same, 

Regardless  of  ignorant  fools, 
Who  seek  to  deride  every  stanza  you  sing- ; 
And,  like  an  assassin,  their  implements  fling-, 
To  silence  your  strain  with  their  envious  sting ; 

We  scorn  all  their  laws  and  their  rules. 
The  Lord  in  His  majesty  wisely  designed 
A  wonderful  mixture  to  make  of  mankind  ; 
Oh,  many  he  dwarfed  both  in  person  and  mind, 
And  spread  them  abroad  o'er  the  earth. 
Each  movement  and  gesture,  each  action  and 

shape, 

Resembles  entirely  their  grandfather  ape, 
You'd  think  from  some  jungle  they  made  their 
escape — 

But  Darwin  accounts  for  their  birth. 


164  SHANDY  MAGUIEE. 

What  stench-pools  of  filthy  corruption  there  lie 
Concealed  in  the  hearts  of  the  villains  who  try 
To  seek  after  slander,  and  then  magnify 

The  few  simple  words  which  they  hear 
A  hundred  fold  more  than  the  facts  may  disclose, 
And  then,  with  their  eyes  hang-ing-  down  on  each 

nose, 
They'll  run  with  the  stutf  to  our  deadliest  foes, 

And  pour  their  foul  tales  in  each  ear. 

Some  women  are  first  to  discover  a  trail, 
And  slander  a  sister,  denounce  her  as  frail ; 
Their  bitter  opinions  they'll  add  to  the  tale, 

Wherein  if  we  only  could  see 
Such  saints,  when  Temptation  is  hovering-  near, 
And  pouring-  a  passionate  plea  in  each  ear ; 
Methinks  they  would  merit  their  share  of  the 
sneer 

They  throw  'round  derisively  free. 
But  some  are  well  versed  in  the  art  to  conceal 
The  treacherous  moments  from  virtue  they  steal, 
And  those  are  the  ones  who  unscabbard  the  steel, 

To  cut  with  Satanical  ire 
The  heart  of  a  sister  who  falls  by  the  way, 
Forg-etting-,  meanwhile,  their  dear  selves  are  but 

clay, 
But  poor  human  nature,  too  prone  to  obey 

The  beck  of  each  tempting-  desire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  165 

"  Old  Pen  !  we  are  often  obliged,  to  endure 
The  taunts  which  are  flung  at  the  friendless  and 

poor, 
By  those  who  to-day  are  in  sunshine  secure, 

To-morrow  the  clouds  may  arise ; 
If  so,  we  will  note  them  on  life's  rugged  road, 
To  see  how  they'll  carry  adversity's  load, 
Methinks  they  will  quiver  when  pricked  by  the 

goad, 

And  sigh  after  sunnier  skies." 


TO  THE  CENTENNIAL  COMMITTEE  OF  ONE 
HUNDRED. 

Messieurs,  'tis  a  whimsical  turn 

Of  fancy  that  prompts  me  to  write, 
But  fires  patrioticly  burn 

Deep  down  in  my  bosom  to-night ; 
And  up  from  my  heart  comes  a  chorus — 

A  clear,  ringing,  chorusing  cheer, 
When  thinking  of  pleasure  before  us 

This  joyous  Centennial  year. 

In  you,  then,  my  honored  committee, 
We  place  the  full  power  to  employ 

A  plan  to  enliven  our  city 
Three  days  in  the  month  of  July. 


166  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  programme  already  suggested 

Is  excellent,  sirs,  in  its  way, 
And  I,  by  the  boys  am  requested, 

A  word  on  the  subject  to  say : 

We've  twenty-one  towns  in  this  county, 

All  peopled  with  patriots  true, 
Who'll  come  to  partake  of  our  bounty 

And  see  what  we  city-folk  do. 
From  now  until  then  they'll  keep  scanning 

The  papers  and  programmes,  to  see 
The  plans  the  Committee  are  planning 

For  this,  our  Centennial  spree. 

Announce  in  large  letters  each  wonder 

We  have  from  all  parts  of  the  earth, 
Let  cannon  belch  forth  in  loud  thunder 

The  dawn  of  the  century's  birth. 
Send  broadsides  of  congratulations 

To  neighboring  States,  and  proclaim 
Abroad — to  remotest  of  nations — 

Our  love  for  great  Washington's  name. 

Don't  brood  o'er  next  charter  election, 
Or  questions  therewith  to  arise, 

Because  there's  a  little  objection 
To  some  of  us  drawing-  a  prize. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  16? 

Besides,  in  political  breakers 
The  most  skillful  pilots  we've  found, 

When  steering  amongst  the  slate-makers, 
We're  run  high  and  dry  on  the  ground. 

Now  sirs,  get  your  programmes  in  order, 

And  scatter  them  broadcast ;  be  sure 
That  plenty  goes  over  the  border, 

Our  neighbor's  from  thence  to  secure. 
Expense  do  not  spare  advertising, 

The  sights  which  await  them  in  store, 
Historical,  novel,  surprising, 

When  once  they  set  foot  on  our  shore. 

Let  nothing  abridge  our  enjoyment, 

Let  pleasure,  for  once,  have  full  sway, 
We'll  all  have  some  other  employment, 

A  century  hence  from  to-day. 
The  reservoirs  south  of  our  city, 

With  little  expense  can  be  made 
Thirst  quenchers,  my  honored  Committee, 

And  flow  through  our  streets  lemonade. 

Such  actions  will  pass  down  the  ages, 
Surviving  the  shock  of  old  Time ; 

Each  name  upon  history's  pages, 
Will  loom  in  the  future  sublime. 


168  SHANDY  MAGU1RE. 

One  hundred  years  hence,  what  a  story 
Each  sire  will  relate  to  his  son, 

Of  deeds  full  of  honor  and  glory, 
Their  noble  old  forefather's  done  ! 

Let  each  take  his  share  of  the  labor, 

And  not  from  his  duty  refrain ; 
Who  shirks  off  his  part  on  his  neighbor 

May  hear  from  my  hardship  again. 
My  pen,  I  can  scarcely  control  it, 

It's  favorite  theme  is  abuse, 
Just  because  I  unwittingly  stole  it 

Last  week,  from  an  Alderman's  goose. 

Remember,  we're  first  among  nations 

Existing  to-day  on  the  earth  ; 
Now  work,  sirs,  and  make  preparations 

To  greet  such  a  century's  birth. 
This  may  be  our  last  time  together 

On  such  an  occasion ;  I  fear 
Will  meet  with  a  spell  of  hot  weather, 

Before  next  Centennial  year  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  169 

TO  MADAM  REBECCA. 

(A  RKPLY  TO  HER  ARTICLE  HEADED  " SHAXDY  MAGUIRE  REVIEWED.") 

Oh !  Madam  Rebecca — Dear  Madam,  .1  mean — 
My  heart  is  o'erflo  wing  with  rapturous  pleasure 
Because  in  your  loving-  review  I  have  seen 
The  objects  1  sought  for,  my  long  wished  for 

treasure. 

I've  courted  old  women  through  life  b}^  the  score, 
Made  love  to  the  widows — a  dozen  or  more ; 
I've  sat  with  old  maids  till  I  thought  I  could  spy 
A  faint  little  "  yes  "  in  each  man-hunting  eye ; 
I've  sighed  till  I'm  certain  I  saw  in  the  air, 
Fading  off  from  my  lips  the  grim  ghost  of  despair, 
As  awkwardly  sitting  I'd  gnaw  my  caubeen, 
To  shun  the  keen  glance  of  a  maid  of  sixteen. 
But,  all  in  their  turn  refused  me  so  cool, 
They  caused  me  to  think  1  was  really  a  fool. 
I  next  in  the  Journal  fished  round  for  a  mate, 
And,  save  a  few  nibbles,  untouched  lay  the  bait, 

Till  you,  my  own  treasure  and  long  sought  for 

dove, 

Sent  deep  in  my  heart  the  first  spark  of  true  love. 
It  was  smoke  all  the  others  created,  but  you 
Have  set  me  in  flame  with  your  loving  review. 
I'd  read  it,  then  pause,  and  I'd  read  it  again, 
At  home,  in  the  roundhouse,  or  running  my  train  ; 
I'd  gloat  o'er  the  lines  with  an  eager  delight, 


170  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And,  Madam,  I  swear— though  the  act  you'll 
be  scorning — 

I  took  that  review  into  bed  t'other  night 

To  clasp  it  up  close  in  my  bosom  till  morning. 

Next  dawn  from  a  couch  of  sweet  dreams  I  arose  ! 

Bewildered,  delighted,  like  many  another. 
I  scarcely  took  time  to  get  into  my  clothes, 

Till  off  on  Love's  pinions  I  flew  to  my  mother. 
I  showed  her  the  Journal,  I  read  your  review, 
I  told  her  a  wife  I  discovered  in  you. 
I  then,  rich  in  fancy,  enlarged  on  your  charms, 
And  said  I  would  soon  have  you  clasped  in  my 

arms. 

"  Dear  mother,  I  know  she  is  comely  and  fair, 
In  natural  curls  I  fancy  her  hair ; 
Her  eyes  must  be  bright — can  out  rival  the  stars, 
My  schoolmaster  said  were   called  Venus  and 

Mars ! 

Her  lips,  like  the  cherries  on  Fogarty's  tree  ! 
So  tempting  of  yore  to  an  urchin  like  me  ; 
Her  teeth,  a  whole  mouthful  of  pearls,  and  white 
As  new  fallen  snow  in  the  sun's  dawning  light ; 
Her  lips,  I  imagine,  dear  mother  of  mine, 
Look  just  like  a  lily  when  smothered  in  wine  ? 
Her  arms  are  just  what  I  need  when  we're  wed 
To  serve  me  for  pillows  each  night  for  my  head . 
Her  bust,  and  her  fair  incomparable  mien, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  171 

Will  be  a  fit  shrine  for  a  husband's  devotion  ; 
And,  mother,  I'll  cling-  to  that  beautiful  queen 

Till  summoned  to  cross  over  Time's  troubled 

ocean. 
"  Oh,  Shandy !  my  first-born,  beautiful  one  ! 

I  pity  your  case  and  I'll  try  and  console  you ; 
For  proving-  throug-h  life  a  good,  dutiful  son, 

I'll  not  let  this  Madam  Rebecca,  cajole  you. 
'Tis  plain  to  be  seen  you're  bewitched,  I  can  trace 
The  spell  of  the  siren  o'erclouding-  your  face. 
You  love-stricken  fool,  what  a  picture  you  draw 
To  g-ain  my  consent  for  a  daughter-in-law. 
Wherein,  like  myself,  she  is  wrinkled  and  gray, 
One  eye  artificial,  her  bones  in  decay  ; 
Her  curls  clipped  off  from  some  poor  girl's  head ; 
Or  may  be  her  hair  is  a  carroty  red ; 
Her  teeth  are  not  pearls,  but  bones,  far  between, 
Like  milestones,  with  colorless  lips  for  a  screen ; 
Her  bust  and  her  waist  are  both  padded  and  filled; 
Besides,  like  yourself,  at  a  rhyme  she  is  skilled. 
In  the  April  number  she  struck  up  a  tune, 
Like  the  bay  of  a  dog  at  a  mid-winter  moon, 
I'll  read  yOu  this  extract,  your  passion  'twill  kill ; 
A  sample  she  ground  in  her  doggerel  mill : — 
"  Then  'tis  wheeze  and  cough  and  chow  chow, 
Now  puff  and  blow  and  pow  pow. 
Back  a  jerk,  forward  a  jump, 


172  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Couple  to  and  then  a  bump, 
A  turn  of  the  wheels,  a  scuff  and  clatter, 
A  shriek  of  the  whistle,  quadrupeds  scatter, 
The  train  moves  forward,  patter,  patter." 

My  son,  she  put  that  on  the  point  of  the  dart, 

That  cupid  let  drive  at  your  bachelor  heart. 

'Tis  a  sweet  little  song,  can  you  give  it  an  air, 
And  rattle  it  off  on  the  string's  of  your  lyre  ? 

Troth,  Shandy,  you'll  both  make  a  musical  pair, 
If  e'er  she'll  be  Madam  Rebecca  Maguire  ! 

Oh  madam  !  'Tis  plain  to  be  seen  the  old  dame 

Will  never  permit  both  our  life-tides  to  mingl  e  ; 
But,  dearest!  I  swear  by  my  love's  glowing  flame, 

If  you  but  consent  I'll  no  longer  live  single. 
I'll  act  disobediently  once  in  my  life, 
'Tis  I — not  my  mother — who's  seeking  a  wife. 
And,  mind  you,  my  idolized,  musical  dame, 
'Tis  just  as  you  say  about  changing  my  name. 
If  Shandy  don't  suit  you  then  Handy  will  do ; 
Most  anything,  darling  !  that's  pleasing  to  you, 
Because  I'm  determined  together  we'll  run. 

I  don't  care  a  pipe  full  of  F.  G.  tobacco, 
For  all  my  old  mother  just  preached  to  her  son, 

Providing  you're  satisfied,  Madam  Rebecca. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  173 

LINES  WRITTEN  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  A 
WIDOWED  FRIEND. 

Dear  Paddy,  friend  and  brother, 

And  companion  of  my  youth, 
Alas  !  you're  now  a  widower, 

I  pity  you  in  truth. 
A  wave  of  kind  compassion 

Is  sweeping-  o'r  my  soul 
When  thinking-,  darling  Paddy, 

Of  the  grief  you  can't  control. 

Oh,  yes,  you'll  weep  in  sadness 

For  the  "  dear  departed  dove, 
Now  soaring1  with  the  angels, 

'Round  the  throne  of  God  above." 
By  heaven  !  there  are  thousands, 

Yes  and  tens  of  thousands,  too, 
Who'd  weep  one  eye  in  darkness, 

To  be  free  to-night  like  you  ! 

I  know  your  "darling-  Kittie," 

Was  a  true  and  faithful  wife, 
More  faithful  than  the  husband 

She  was  wedded  to  in  life. 
I  also  know,  dear  Paddy, 

(And  I'll  keep  the  fact  in  view) 
How  the  "darling  dear  departed," 

Once  did  "  mitten  "  me  for  you. 


174  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

My  boy  !  I  will  console  you 

With  an  epicedian  strain, 
I  am  at  it  now.  dear  Paddy, 

I  am  tortured  with  the  pain  ! 
I'll  send  it  to  the  Journal, 

With  the  letter  I've  received, 
So  thirty  thousand  readers 

Can  behold  how  much  I'm  grieved. 

"  In  tears  you  will  lament  her, 

Till  the  gracious  King  above, 
Will  send  for  you  to  join  her, 

In  that  home  of  peace  and  love  !" 
Now,  Paddy,  let  me  tell  you, 

(And  to  this  you  will  agree,) 
If  you're  received  in  Heaven, 

There's  a  chance  for  such  as  me." 

You  must  scourge  your  wicked  body, 

Yes,  and  holy-stone  your  soul, 
Before  you  can  pass  muster, 

At  the  call  of  Heaven's  roll ; 
It  is  hard  to  fool  St.  Peter, 

There's  a  duplex  system  there, 
And  all  must  have  a  ticket, 

Who  would  climb  the  golden  stair ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  175 

Dear  Paddy,  list  a  moment, 

Do  not  let  your  passion  rise, 
When  I  tell  you  :  not  a  blubber 

From  your  heart  ran  to  your  eyes  ; 
You  may  have  squeezed  a  moisture, 

Like  that  monster  of  the  Nile, 
We  all  have  read  of,  Paddy, 

Called  "the  weeping-  crocodile  !" 

You  mention  in  your  letter 

HOAV  you'll  live  for  Kittie's  sake, 
A  sad  and  lonely  widower, 

No  other  bride  you'll  take; 
You'll  woo  no  other  woman, 

Till  your  life-tide  ebbs  away— 
"  The  divil  thrust  you,  darlint !" 

As  my  country-women  say. 

I'll  wager  my  existence, 

That  before  she's  dead  a  year, 
You'll  be  promenading-,  Paddy, 

With  your  hat  hung-  on  your  ear  ; 
You'll  be  hunting  up  another, 

And  a  fox  as  old  as  you 
Must  have  a  tender  chicken, 

My  old  sport,  you're  forty- two  ! 


176  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

In  justice  to  dear  Kittie, 

With  a  tender,  heartfelt  sigh, 
For  days  long-  fled  forever, 

In  happy  times  gone  by, 
I'll  pen  you  here  an  epitaph — 

She  earned  it  well  in  life, 
And  very  few  deserve  it — 

"Here  lies  a  faithful  wife." 

Take  one  advice  I  give  you  : 

Keep  mute  as  mute  co,n  be, 
Don't  breathe  a  word  in  anger 

For  singing  thus  to  thee, 
Because — and  here  I  swear  it — 

If  you  make  the  slightest  noise, 
I'll  sing  your  name  and  number 

Next  month  for  all  the  boys. 


THE  JOYS  OF  LABOR. 
I  hate  to  hear  the  clap-trap  cry, 

Ascend  at  every  grand  ovation, 
Until  it  reaches  to  the  sky, 

From  every  toady  in  the  nation — 
How  labor  is  a  God-sent  gift, 

And  labor's  sons  we  love  as  brothers, 
Who,  by  their  manly  toil  and  thrift, 

Do  honor  to  their  noble  mothers. 


SHANDY    MAGUIRE.  177 

Messieurs,  ye  gem-bespangled  throng1, 

Whose  tongues  are  with  the  blarney  coated, 
'Tis  you  who  well  may  sing  that  song 

At  banquets,  where  choice  wine  is  noted ; 
Then  spread  your  words  wide  o'er  the  land 

By  telephones,  and  daily  papers, 
That  always  lend  a  willing  hand 

To  eulogize  your  sumptuous  capers. 

When  such  harangues  gush  from  your  throats, 

We  bless  your  kind  fraternal  feeling ; 
We  never  think  you  want  our  votes — 

Oh,  no  !  you'd  scorn  such  double-dealing. 
Perhaps  a  thin-skinned  fool  like  me 

Is  envious  of  my  wealthy  neighbor ; 
But  come,  Messieurs,  and  soon  we'll  see 

The  blessings  found  in  "honest  labor." 

I'll  be  a  self-appointed  guide, 

And  lead  you  to  the  various  places  ; 
We'll  view  the  looks  of  high-born  pride, 

On  all  who  wear  "  proud  labor's  "  traces. 
'Tis  now  the  welcome  hour  of  noon, 

And  here's  a  shop  with  groups  reclining ; 
Step  in,  and  we'll  discover  soon, 

On  what  these  sons  of  toil  are  dining. 

12 


178  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

Come,  view  this  dark,  inferior  bread  ! 

Be  patient,  sirs ;  what  makes  you  nutter  ? 
Is  it  because  it  weighs  like  lead  ? 

Or  just  because  it  lacks  of  butter  ? 
All  meats  are  rather  scarce,  you  see  ; 

Their  butchers  must  have  failed  to  slaughter. 
And  here,  in  lieu  of  wines  or  tea, 

They  have  a  pail  of  "sparkling-  water." 

The  meal  is  o'er ;  we'll  now  prepare 

To  hold  a  little  conversation  ; 
We'll  make  some  spokesman  tell  the  share, 

They  get  for  building-  up  this  nation  : 
"  What  news,  my  boys  ;  How  fares  the  day  ? 

Do  Plenty's  smiles  come  kindly  beaming  ? 
Does  hope  shine  forth  with  prosperous  ray, 

Around  your  future  pathway  gleaming  ? 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  said  one  upon  whose  brow, 

The  plow  of  care  cut  many  a  furrow  ; 
"  Bright  Hope  is  smiling  on  us  now, 

And  means  to  do  the  same  to-morrow ; 
Our  food  consists  of  smiles  of  Hope ; 

Messieurs,  'tis  good,  substantial  feeding ; 
It  saves  us  from  the  hang-man's  rope, 

And  checks  our  woundsfromconstant bleeding. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  179 

"What  right  have  we,  poor  slaves,  to  frown, 

To  dare  to  think  or  dare  to  ponder 
On  why  you  cut  our  wages  down, 

Or  why  our  heart-strings  burst  asunder  ? 
When  hunger's  pangs  our  vitals  gnaw 

Or  when  half-clad  .in  freezing  weather, 
Why  shouldn't  we  bless  the  glorious  law 

That  keeps  our  bodies  and  souls  together  ? 

We're  made  of  Nature's  coarsest  clay ; 

Our  wives  and  brats,  why,  keep  them  starving, 
Inferior  brood — what  right  have  they, 

To  grumble  while  our  fates  are  carving  ? 
Then  train  your  dogs  with  savage  skill, 

To  drive  the  pauper  band  in  fury ; 
What  matter  if  they  one  should  kill, 

While  you  can  buy  the  judge  and  jury  ?  " 

The  whistle's  sound  soon  ceased  the  talk; 

With  sullen  and  sarcastic  bearing, 
Away  they  went  in  sullen  walk, 

As  motionless  we  stood  there,  staring. 
Messieurs,  such  movements  mean  a  dire, 

Disastrous,  fierce,  internal  friction, 
Which  yet  may  burst  in  flames  of  fire, 

Beyond  the  power  of  laws'  restriction, 


180  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

COME  AND  NESTLE  UP  CLOSELY,  MY  DARLING. 

Come  and  nestle  up  closely,  my  darling ! 

Dearest  girl  with  the  long-  raven  hair. 
You  can  sing-  in  my  arms  like  a  starling1, 

You  delight  me  when  ever  you're  there. 
Let  the  world  wag  away  with  its  bother, 

While  your  heart  is  up  closely  to  mine  ; 
We  will  whisper  fond  hopes  to  each  other, 

For  you  know  I  am  faithfully  thine. 

Should  the  darkness  of  grief  beat  around  us, 

And  the  clouds  of  misfortune  arise,  - 
They  will  ne'er  have  the  power,  love,  to  wound  us, 

They  will  soon  disappear  from  our  skies. 
When  your  lips  touch  my  soul,  as  I  press  them, 

I  will  drink  at  the  fountain  my  fill ! 
With  a  miserly  greed  I'll  caress  them, 

And  I'll  keep  them  as  slaves  to  my  will. 

When  your  arms  circle  round  me,  my  treasure  ! 

I  will  fancy  the  angels  are  near ; 
I'll  enjoy  ev'ry  moment  of  pleasure, 

As  I  list  to  your  pledges  sincere. 
Then  the  years  may  unfold  all  their  sorrows ; 

We  have  faith  to  surmount  ev'ry  ill, 
Which  shall  come  with  the  gloomy  to-morrows, 

For  our  hearts  shall  beat  truthfully  still. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  181 

BLIGHTED  HOPES. 

One  night,  as  in  an  easy  chair 

I  sat,  perusing1  mystic  lore, 
I  heard  a  footstep  on  the  stair, 

Then  came  a  knocking  at  my  door  ; 
The  hour  was  late,  the  taper's  ray 

Scarce  lit  the  dreary  midnight  gloom, 
Yet,  at  my  call,  without  delay, 

A  visitor  stepped  in  the  room. 

A  man  he  was,  and  in  his  eye 

I  marked  a  sad,  peculiar  grace, 
As  if  bright  hope  had  passed  him  by, 

And  sought  some  other  resting  place  ; 
His  years  they  numbered  manhood's  prime  ; 

His  haggard  glance  the  story  told — 
That  care  outstripped  the  march  of  Time, 

And  made  him  prematurely  old. 
I  welcomed  him  and  bade  him  rest, 

He  made  a  common-place  reply  ; 
His  voice  touched  springs  within  my  breast, 

Which  long  I  thought  were  parched  and  dry. 

"  My  friend  !  and  can  it  really  be 

'Tis  you,  returned  home  at  last, 
Who  trod  life's  morning  road  with  me 

In  days  long  numbered  with  the  past  ? 


182  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Speak  out,  why  leave  me  in  suspense  ? 

Your  voice  is  all  I  recognize,  ^ 

Long  days  gone  by  you  went  from  hence, 

And  wandered  off  'neath  stranger  skies.' 

I  paused,  and  his  extended  hand 

I  clasped  with  old-time,  boyish  glee  ; 
I  welcomed  him  to  father-land, 

Who,  years  had  roved  o'er  land  and  sea. 
In  failing  voice  my  guest  began 

To  tell  his  tale,  'mid  falling  tears, 
How  he  had  strayed,  as  boy  and  man, 

Across  the  waste  of  many  years. 
But  from  his  lips  the  tale  must  fall ; 

Each  plaintive  note  of  pent-up  grief 
My  Muse  will  re-produce,  that  all 

May  read  a  life-page  sad,  but  brief. 

"  A  score  of  years  have  nearly  ran 

Their  varying,  changing  course  along, 
Since  I,  allured  by  hope,  began 

To  mingle  with  life's  struggling  throng. 
My  father's  home  amongst  the  trees  ; 

My  mother's  reverential  air, 
As  morning,  noon,  and  night,  her  knees 

Would  bend  in  pious,  heart-felt  prayer, 
For  God  to  bless  our  humble  cot, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  183 

And  all  assembled  'round  therein ; 
Alas  !  too  soon  they  were  forgot, 

Exchanged  for  gilded  ways  of  sin. 
Intoxicating  draughts  I  sought, 

I  quaffed,  too  deep,  the  midnight  bowl, 
I  drained  its  dregs,  but  never  thought 

How  soon  I  could  pollute  my  soul. 
Being  cast  in  Nature's  stalwart  mould, 

Such  word  as  fear  I  ne'er  have  known. 
Too  fiercely  brave,  too  bravely  bold, 

Endowed  with  muscle,  nerve  and  bone. 
I  never  paused  to  count  the  cost 

Of  wild  debauch  on  strength  and  mind ; 
Through  many  golden  years  I  lost, 

I  never  cast  a  glance  behind. 
One  day  there  came  in  mourning  guise 

A  little  note,  'twas  quickly  read, 
'Mid  choking  sobs  and  tear-dimm'd  eyes, 

It  told  my  noble  sire  was  dead. 
To  deeper  depths  I  then  went  down ; 

I  neared  the  verge  of  crime's  abyss  ; 
Saw  firey  eye-balled  demons  frown ; 

Heard  shrieks  and  groans  and  serpents  hiss. 
I  fled,  the  fiends  of  hell  gave  chase, 

And  on  my  heels  pursued  me  fast. 

A  mother's  prayers  soon  won  the  race, 
And  reformation  came  at  last ! 


184  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  started  on  life's  road  anew, 

I  met  a  girl  of  witching-  grace, 
With  flowing  hair  of  sunny  hue, 

And  brilliant  mind,  and  handsome  face. 
I  loved  as  only  man  can  love, 

I  grew  a  boy  at  heart  again, 
And  for  her  sake  I  fondly  wove 

A  future  bright,  untinged  by  pain. 

I  crowned  her  empress  of  my  heart ; 

I  knelt  before  her  vestal  shrine ; 
And  e're  we  tore  ourselves  apart, 

She  pledged  eternal  love  with  mine. 
I  left  her  then  to  seek  for  fame 

Among  the  busy  haunts  of  men, 
And  for  her  sake  to  win  a  name, 

By  aid  of  voice  and  guileless  pen. 
She  seemed  the  counterpart  of  me, 

Her  very  life,  her  hopes  and  fears, 
She  said  within  my  heart  I'd  see  ; 

And  note  no  change  in  future  years. 
She  then  became  my  guiding  star  ; 

How  oft  my  weary  brain  has  sought 
To  ward  away  the  conflict's  jar, 

By  sweet  companionship  of  thought. 
My  pen  was  powerless  to  portray 

Upon  the  paper's  ample  page, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  185 

My  burning-  love,  each  closing-  day  ; 

The  very  moments  seemed  an  age, 
That  I  have  lingered  in  suspense, 

Until  I'd  get  a  fond  reply ; 
'Twould  cheer  my  heart,  and  soothe  each  sense, 

When  reading  with  a  gloating  eye — 
But  why  prolong  this  painful  theme, 

To  scourge  my  lacerated  mind  ? 
'Twas  all  a  curs'd  delusive  dream, 

That  left  its  venomed  stings  behind. 
E'en  now  in  memory  she  is  near, 

The  dirge  of  by-g-one  days  to  toll. 
My  friend,  forgive  this  falling-  tear, 

She  lured  me  with  a  perjured  soul. 
My  peace  of  mind's  forever  g-one, 

My  heart  for  sweet  contentment  gropes ; 
This  was  the  cap-stone  placed  upon 

My  pyramid  of  blig-hted  hopes." 

His  words  grew  incoherent — wild. 

He  paused  to  gain  a  moment's  rest. 
Again  he  raised  his  head  and  smiled, 

As  hope  had  dawned  within  his  breast. 
"  But  friend,"  he  said,  "  our  boyhood  days 

Have  many  treasured  gems  in  store, 
How  oft  my  retrospective  gaze 
,    Grew  bright,  amid  those  scenes  of  yore. 


186  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

'Mid  joyous  scenes  of  early  youth 

My  memory  often  backward  stole, 
To  live  again  and  seek  for  truth 

In  dreamy  mansions  of  the  soul. 
But  past,  forever  fare-you-well ! 

The  present  has  no  joy  for  me, 
The  future,  ah!  what  tongue  can  tell 

The  joy  or  grief  wThich  in  it  be  ? 
I  recognize  the  power  divine, 

That  wraps  it  up  in  mystic  gloom, 
Yet,  rays  of  hope  around  it  shine, 

To  light  my  soul  beyond  the  tomb." 


I  CANNOT  SING  TO-NIGHT,  LOVE. 

I  cannot  sing  to-night,  love, 

For  I've  an  aching  brow ; 
I  feel  affection's  blight,  love, 

Descending  on  me  now. 
I've  sipped  the  nectar  sweet,  love, 

Upon  your  lips  that  grow  ; 
But  then,  'twas  pleasure  fleet,  love, 

And  now  I'm  sunk  in  woe. 

I  cannot  sing  to-night,  love, 
My  voice  has  lost  the  charms 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  187 

Which  gave  you  once  delight,  love, 

When  circled  in  my  arms. 
The  sweet,  delusive  thrill,  love, 

I  felt  when  you  were  near 
Now  feels  an  aching-  chill,  love, 

From  pledges  insincere. 

I  cannot  sing  to-night,  love, 

For  all  your  witching  snares, 
And  features  sparkling  bright,  love, 

Can't  win  those  joyous  airs 
Which  oft  I  sang  to  you,  love, 

In  blissful  moments  past, 
When  you  have  pledged  me  true,  love, 

That  joys  like  those  would  last. 

I  cannot  sing  to-night,  love, 

I'm  passion- tossed  with  pain, 
I  wish  you'd  leave  my  sight,  love, 

And  ease  my  'wilder'd  brain — 
But,  stay,  your  features,  dearly, 

Delude  me  as  of  yore. 
I'll  dream  you  love  sincerely, 

And  sing  you  one  song  more  ! 


188  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

OUT  OF  THE  SHOP. 

I'm  out  of  the  shop,  where  I've  been  for  repairs; 

Yes,  out  of  the  shop,  where  I've  lingered  for 

years; 
Once  more  in  the  cab,  putting-  on  all  the  airs 

That  ever  were  thought  of  by  gay  engineers. 
I've  got  a  rebuild  of  the  "monkey-wrench"  kind  ; 

I've  also  been  "daubed  with  a  bucket  of  paint ; ' ' 
And  boys,  ere  the  close  of  this  year  you  shall  find 

I  can  yet  bring  a  smile  to  the  phiz  of  a  saint. 

Where  are  the  old  friends  whom  I've  met  with 

of  yore  ? 
Are  all  of  them  yet  'mid  earth's  turmoil  and 

strife  ? 

Or  have  they  set  brakes  on  eternity's  shore, 
With  trains  safely  brought  up  the  grades  of 

this  life  ? 
From  north,  boys,  to  south,  from  the  west  to  the 

east 
There  were  many  heroes  I'll  miss  from  the 

throng, 

Who've  often  sat  down  with  myself  at  a  feast, 
And  drained  a  full  glass  to  my  merit-less  song. 

But,  boys,  I  have  tears  for  the  graves  of  our  dead ; 
I  also  have  smiles  which  you  plainly  can  trace, 
For  each  gallant  lad  who  is  fighting  for  bread, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  189 

Upon  an  old  mill,  with  a  black  smoky  face  ; 
Who'll  stand  in  the  cab — and  with  sinews  of  steel ; 

If  danger's  ahead  be  prepared  for  the  shock— 
And  then  down  the  bank  with  his  engine  he'll  reel, 

His  throttle  still  clasping,  unflinching  as  rock. 

My  mother  once  said  :      "  Arrah,  Shandy  take 
care, 

And  keep  out  of  danger  as  long  as  you  can ; 
A  hero  may  die,  but,  my  son,  I  declare 

A  coward  can  live  all  his  days  like  a  man." 
I  have  always  been  known  as  a  dutiful  son ; 

I'll    take    her    advice    when  there's   danger 

around ; 
The  heroes  may  take  my  whole  share  of  such  fun, 

For  I  shall  step  off  on  a  soft  spot  of  ground. 

Keep  up  your  insurance,  protect  well  your  lives  ; 
You  can  t  tell  the  moment  old  Death  with  his 

shears 

Shall  straggle  around  and  bequeath  to  your  wives 

A  few  thousand  dollars  to  dry  up  their  tears. 

Then,  boys,  how  they'll  dress  in  rich  billows   of 

black ! 

With   veils  drooping  down  o'er  each  grief- 
stricken  face ; 
When  once  they  are  sure  that  you  cannot  come 

back 
Another  will  squander  the  dimes  in  your  place. 


190  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Old  Time,  if  I  only  could  hamper  your  flight, 

Or  scatter  contentment  for  all  in  your  wake, 
I'd  make  my  old  harp-string's  melodious  to-night, 
And  sing  a  sweet  song  for  the  sad  hearts  that 

ache. 

My  mission  would  be  'mid  the  lowly  and  poor, 
Whose  hunger-pinched  faces  are  haggard  and 

thin, 

Who  scarcely  can  keep  the  mad  wolf  from  the 
door, 

That  comes    to  devour  the  half  starved  ones 
within. 

Oh,  Lord  !  it  is  sad,  what  we  daily  behold, 

To  see  how  the  poor  are  derided  on  earth ; 
To  see  how  they're  tortured  with  hunger  and  cold, 

While  struggling  for  life  from  the  moment 

of  birth, 
With  heart-rending  pains,  and  the  manifold  ills 

That  crawl  through  our  frames  till  we  shiver 

.    and  shake, 
With  sickness  and  sorrow,convulsions,and  chills, 

Which  clasp  us  as  tight  as  a  Westinghouse 
brake. 

By  gracious  !  a  tear  has  just  rolled  from  my  eyes ; 
Old  Muse,  ere  next  month  you  must  alter  your 

strain, 
Soar  up,  and  away,  to  those  bright,  sunny  skies. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  191 

That  gleam  far  above  our  old  'Castle  in  Spain.' 
'Tis  there  we  can  warble  in  satire  and  mirth, 

And  sing-  undisturbed  as  we  both  may  desire ; 
There's  not  such  another  dear  spot  on  this  earth, 

For  you,  and  your  frolics,  and  Shandy  Maguire. 


BURY  THE  PAST. 

Oh,  bury  the  past,  my  boys, 

Be  sure  you  bury  it  deep ; 

If  not  it  will  surely  rise, 

Like  ghostly  faces  in  sleep ; 

I  mean  the  remorseful  past, 

Which  many  men  call  "  wild  oats," 

If  not  it  will  hold  you  fast, 

With  vengeful  grip  at  your  throats. 

When  by  the  style  of  the  years, 
Which  leads  down  the  vale  of  life, 
Perhaps  it  may  save  some  tears, 
From  many  a  faithful  wife  ; 
And  don't  be  at  all  surprised, 
Unless  you  have  hearts  of  stone, 
When  keeping  the  past  disguised, 
You'll  save  some  tears  in  your  own, 


192  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

You  may  count  your  beads  all  day, 

And  mutter  your  aves  out, 

To  keep  the  specters  away, 

If  once  they're  let  roam  about ; 

It  is  best  to  sink  them  deep 

Where  all  kindred  criminals  dwell, 

For  a  long1  eternal  sleep, 

If  down  you  should  dig1  to  hell. 

Then  keep  from  their  graves  away, 
Through  all  of  your  future  days, 
If  not,  when  your  head  is  gray, 
A  furnace  may  round  you  blaze. 
This  counsel  given  in  rhyme 
Should  on  your  memory  last, 
Perhaps  it  may  guard  from  crime, 
If  down  you  bury  the  past. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  LIFE. 

When  the  sun  of  life  is  shining, 
Ere  a  cloud  begins  to  rise, 

To  bedim  the  glorious  lustre 
Of  our  bright  meridian  skies, 

Then,  my  boys,  we  must  remember 
That  his  beams  don't  always  staj7, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  193 

To  enliven  up  the  evening 

Of  that  fast  approaching-  day, 
When  the  gloomy  ills  shall  gather, 

And  with  penetrating-  force, 
Travel  reckless  throug-h  our  bodies 

In  a  devastating-  course ; 
Bearing-  daily  grim  reminders, 

That  our  manhood's  boasted  prime, 
Is  most  surely  drifting-  downward 

On  the  tidal-waves  of  time. 

When  the  turkey-tracks  all  g-ather 

On  each  florid  looking-  brow, 
Where  old  father  Time  sits  gloating 

'Mid  the  furrows  of  his  plow  ; 
When  the  silver  threads  are  streaking 

Through  redundant  heads  of  hair,     • 
And  the  rheumatism  driving 

Us  through  torture  and  despair  ; 
When  the  belladonna  plasters 

Are  prescribed  to  help  each  back, 
As  we  try  to  fool  the  doctor, 

Cursing  driving-springs  and  track ; 
He  will  listen  quite  attentive, 

Should  our  friends  be  standing  near, 
But  when  once  they  leave  our  presence 

He  will  thunder  in  each  ear : 

13 


194  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"  If  you  wish  to  know  your  ailment, 

I  will  tell  you  simple  truth, 
You  are  now  a  holy  martyr, 

Caused  by  piety  in  youth ; 
And  with  bolus,  pills,  and  plasters, 

I  shall  have  to  overhaul 
The  lost  motion  of  your  body, 

Or  a  helpless  wreck  you'll  fall." 
What  a  splendid  consolation, 

As  we  suffer  in  our  grief, 
To  be  told  that  from  our  ailments 

There's  no  permanent  relief ! 

Now,  my  dinner-pail  companions, 

Who  mix  gold  dust  in  your  tea, 
Every  day,  instead  of  sugar, 

So  you'll  spend  your  money  free, 
Give  attention  to  the  future 

As  you  stroll  through  summer  flowers, 
Find  a  cozy  place  of  shelter, 

From  the  winter's  piercing  showers  ; 
Save  up  all  the  little  trifles, 

Put  extravagance  to  rout, 
Keep  the  crimson  from  your  noses, 

And  be  careful  of  the  gout. 
For  with  present  rates  of  wages, 

The  most  skeptic  must  agree, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  195 

If  you  practice  from  my  precepts 

You'll  be  millionaires,  like  me  ; 
And  each  honest  face  will  brighten 

With  a  buckled-crown-sheet  smile, 
As  you  contemplate  your  savings, 

When  they  run  you  by  the  mile  ! 
With  what  thoughts  I  sit  and  listen 

To  those  eloquent  divines, 
Who  drink  deep  of  inspiration 

From  the  choicest  brands  of  wines ! 
Which  enable  them  to  thunder 

Texts  of  Scripture  in  our  ears, 
Telling-  how  the  road  to  Heaven 

Has  been  built  on  human  tears ; 
And  the  wrecks  upon  the  sidings 

Are  a  vicious,  sinful  band 
Of  garroters  and  marauders, 

Who'll  ne'er  see  the  Promised  Land ! 
Oh  !  'tis  then  I  feel  rebellion 

Running-  madly  through  my  veins, 
When  I  think  how  faint  with  hunger, 

And  'mid  many  aches  and  pains, 
How  'mid  cold  and  desolation, 

Or  'mid  summer's  burning  rays, 
We  must  struggle  for  existence 

Through  this  world's  winding  ways ; 
And  when  all  the  fight  is  over, 


196  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

As  we  fall  upon  the  sod — 
When  the  summons  is  delivered 

To  appear  before  our  God- 
Then  to  find  the  tribulations 

Of  the  honest,  ill-starred  poor, 
Beside  all  the  dire  misfortunes 

We  were  called  on  to  endure, 
Are  a  mass  of  bitter  curses 

In  this  life  to  undergo, 
Ere  our  Maker  shall  condemn  us 

Into  everlasting1  woe ; 
While  our  rich  and  reverend  teachers, 

Blest  with  luxury  from  birth, 
May  take  sleeping-cars  to  heaven 

When  they're  called  away  from  earth  ! 

Ah !  the  strife  may  be  unequal 

Here  'mid  earthly  hills  and  vales, 
But,  beyond  the  tomb,  dear  reader, 

There's  a  cherub  at  the  scales, 
Who  will  guard  the  balance  fairly, 

And  see  justice  done  to  those 
Who  have  fought  their  way  courageous 

'Mid  a  multitude  of  foes  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  197 

PROSPERITY'S  PET. 

Miss  Fortune,  indeed,  is  a  whimsical  dame, 

And  a  difficult  damsel  for  mankind  to  woo ; 
She  shuffles  life's  cards,  then  sits  watching-  the 
game, 

To  see  the  stakes  won  by  her  favorite  few. 
There's  one  of  the  winners  I've  watched  for  some 

time, 

Whose  changes  we '11  trace  in  the  folio  wing  rhyme . 
In  girlhood's  young  years,  unassuming  and  plain, 
Till  wealth  with  its  joys  nearly  muddled  her  brain, 
And  filled  her  with  moonshiny  notions  so  full, 
That  good  common  sense  had  forsaken  her  skull. 
Put  beggars  on  horseback  they'll  canter  to — well 

You  know  the  old  saying,  'tis  somewhat  pro 
fane. 
Old  goosequill,  to  duty,  and  truthfully  tell 

The  reader  a  tale  in  satirical  strain. 

Dear  reader  'tis  only  a  few  years  ago, 

A  verdant  young  girl,  named  Julia  Ann  Brown, 
Drove  a  green-grocer  cart,  up  and  down,  to  and 

fro, 

Selling  garden  produce  on  the  streets  of  the 
town. 

In  a  calico  dress  thrifty  Judy  was  clad, 
Looking  lanky  and  lean,  without  bustle  or  pad, 
To  the  apings  of  fashion  and  dressmaker's  art 


198  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

She  was  wholly  unknown,  perched  aloft  on  her 

cart, 
Selling1  onions,   tomatoes,  beans,  turnips,  and 

squash, 

Adding  dimes  into  dollars  and  hoarding-  the  cash. 
The  j^ears  sped  along-  o'er  this  vender  of  greens, 
And  Judy  sped  with  them  away  from  her  teens. 
Prosperity  smiled.     The  potato-bug-  swarm 
Dealt  havoc  around,  but  avoided  her  farm ; 
The  harvest  arrived,  and  a  plentiful  store 
Of  potatoes  g-ave  Judy  the  ducats  g-alore. 

Since  then  there's  a  chang-e  in  the  life  of  Miss 

Brown. 

The  upstart  aspires  to  be  belle  of  the  town. 
I  saw  her  last  Sunday,  she  stood  in  the  porch, 
Arranging-  her  dress  to  parade  into  church ; 
Then  onward  she  went  with  a  butter-milk  smile, 
And  a  strut  like  a  goose,  up  the  carpeted  aisle. 
She  was  late  by  design,  so  her  style  we  could 

view, 
And  the  length  of  her  train  as  she  went  to  her 

pew. 
Bending  o'er  in  devotion  devoutly  she  sat, 

While  all  in  that  vast  congregation  did  stare 
At  the  -beautiful  plume  that  she  wore  in  her  hat, 
As  she  seemed  to  be  wholly  absorbed  in  her 

prayer. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  199 

Ah,  Judy  !  I  wish  I  could  teach  you  a  truth, 

That  art  with  its  minions  may  labor  in  vain 
To  give  to  your  features  the  freshness  of  youth, 
Or  temper  the  public's  cold  glance  of  disdain, 
Too  long-  have  you  peddled  your  wares  on  the 

street, 

And  bantered  away  with  each  housewife  you'd 
meet, 

To  think  we'd  forg-et  what  you  were  when  you 

rode 
In  your  father's  old  coat,  buttoned  up  to  keep 

warm, 
Each  cold  chilly  day  on  the  top  of  a  load 

Of  potatoes  and  pumpkins  you  raised  on  the 
farm. 


TIME'S  VISIT. 

One  nig-ht  1  sat  in  dreamy  mood, 

Enwrapped  in  semi-gloom, 
No  living-  soul  did  there  intrude 

Within  my  cozy  room. 
The  embers  in  the  little  grate 

Were  dying-,  one  by  one, 
As  there  I  sat,  to  meditate 

On  days  long-  passed  and  gone. 


200  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Each  fading-  spark  my  fancy  wove, 

Until  it  did  appear 
Like  some  old  friend,  I  once  did  love, 

With  friendship  most  sincere ; 
In  happy  days,  long  passed  and  gone, 

Which  I  shall  always  prize, 
Before  the  clouds  of  care  rolled  on 

To  dim  those  morning  skies. 

I  dreamed  in  semi-concious  state, 

'Till  drowsiness  did  creep  ; 
And,  as  the  last  spark  left  the  grate, 

My  eyes  were  closed  in  sleep  ; 
How  long  I  slept  I  cannot  tell, 

Perhaps  an  hour  or  more, 
'Till  roused  up  by  the  midnight  bell 

And  knocking  at  the  door. 

Perhaps  some  poor,  belated  man, 

Is  seeking  fire  and  food  ; 
To  let  him  in,  I  quickly  ran, 

He'd  share  my  solitude ; 
The  bolt  flew  back,  there  stepped  within 

That  little,  cozy  place, 
A  curious  being,  with  a  grin 

Upon  his  wrinkled  face  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  201 

In  speechless  awe  I  mutely  gazed, 

* 

Until  the  stranger  spoke  ; 
"  Rouse  up !  don't  seem  so  much  amazed, 

I  came  to  have  a  smoke, 
And  chat  awhile  with  you,  my  lad  ; 

For  we've  been  friends  for  years ; 
You've  known  me  when  your  heart  was  glad 

And  also  in  your  tears." 

"  My  name  is  Time,  you  know  me  now  ?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  I  said  in  fright, 
"  Your  mark  is  here  upon  my  brow. 

I  thought  of  you  to-night  ; 
In  fact,  you're  ever  in  my  mind." 

He  then  replied  :     "  Much  crime 
In  all  your  dreamy  moods  I  find, 

Wherein  you  slaughter  Time." 

"  You  drive  along  in  reckless  haste, 

You  never  stop  to  pause 
Upon  the  many  hours  you  waste, 

You  disregard  my  laws  ; 
But,  know  you,  I  will  win  the  race, 

Although  your  strides  are  fleet ; 
Effectively  I  will  efface 

The  earth-marks  of  your  feet. 


202  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Like  many  more,  you  think  you've  got 

A  lease  of  endless  joy  ; 
I  called  such  foolish  thoughts  to  blot 

From  out  your  brain,  my  boy. 
You'll  find  the  years  will  roll  along 

With  steady,  noiseless  tread, 
And  lay  their  cygnet  mark  upon 

Your  visionary  head. 

I've  traveled  from  creation's  birth, 

Adown  the  countless  years, 
Which  swiftly  flew  across  the  earth  ; 

I've  witnessed  human  tears, 
Enough  to  make  an  ocean,  vast 

As  space  between  the  polls  ; 
And  noticed  untold  wrecks  drift  past 

Of  lost,  despairing  souls. 

"For  youth  my  measured  pace  is  slow, 

Their  blood  in  surging  tides 
Keep  bounding,  with  resistless  flow, 

To  urge  their  headlong  strides. 
Age  supplicates  me  to  delay  ;  , 

My  speed  exhausts  his  breath, 
And  when  he  falls  'longside  the  way, 

He's  gathered  in  by  Death." 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  203 

"Yourself  is  not  so  anxious  now 

To  see  the  seasons  fly 
As  when  bright  curls  o'er  your  brow 

Half  hid  each  dancing-  eye. 
You've  sobered  down,  and  love  the  fire, 

Besides,  an  easy  chair, 
And  peevishly,  in  churlish  ire, 

You  wrangle  much  with  Care." 

"Behold  that  puff  of  smoke  ascend, 

And  now  it  disappears ; 
'Tis  fleet  as  human  life,  my  friend, 

And  prototypes  the  years ; 
They  come,  they  go,  and  puny  man, 

With  all  his  boasted  skill, 
Has  but  a  lease  of  briefest  span, 

His  mission  here  to  fill. 

"  Don't  think — like  other  hair-brained  fools, 

In  every  age  and  clime — 
You  can  defy  my  golden  rules, 

And  steal  a  march  on  Time. 
I'll  be  a  victor  o'er  the  graves 

Of  all  the  human  race, 
And  I'll  conceal,  'neath  murky  waves, 

Their  earthly  resting  place." 


204  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

He  ceased,  and  vanished  from  my  sight, 

Just  as  the  streaks  of  day 
Were  penetrating-  through  the  night, 

With  tints  of  morning's  gray. 
In  sadness  I  reflected  on 

The  many  things  he  said, 
Before  I  threw  myself  upon 

My  uninviting  bed. 


A  VISION  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

T'other  night  I  had  a  vision, 

And  it  filled  me  with  surprise. 
Sure  I  dreamt  I  was  transported 

Far  away  beyond  the  skies, 
Till,  just  outside  Heaven's  portals, 

I  was  placed  with  tender  care, 
And  I  knocked  and  sought  admission 

Into  blissful  mansions  there. 


Soon  the  gates  were  slowly  opened 
By  a  sanctimonious  chap, 

Who  demanded  what  I  wanted 
In  my  greasy  clothes  and  cap. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  205 

I  explained  and  gently  told  him 

That  I  "  read  my  title  clear  " 
Down  on  earth  among  the  snow-drifts, 

As  a  half  starved  engineer. 

"  Come  right  in,  my  worthy  brother," 

Said  St.  Peter,  "I  am  sure 
That  I've  never  punched  a  ticket 

Since  I've  stood  upon  this  door, 
Half  so  worthy  of  admission 

As  this  one  you  bring  to  hand, 
From  the  snow-drifts  and  poor  steamers 

Of  that  northern  Yankee  land." 

I  was  dazzled  with  the  splendor 

I  beheld  on  every  side  ! 
I  was  placed  within  a  chariot, 

And  was  given  quite  a  ride 
'Round  among  some  lucky  angels, 

Who  for  twenty  years  in  mirth, 
Have  been  residents  of  Heaven, 

Since  I  missed  them  from  the  earth. 

Oh  !  I  recognized  old  timers, 
Who  blasphemed  in  days  gone  by, 

When  they  were  detained  for  orders, 
Or  on  sidings  had  to  lie ; 


206  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  I  asked  the  saintly  Peter 

How  they  got  in  Paradise. 
He  replied:  "  By  running-  scrap-piles 

With  the  flanges  full  of  ice." 

• 

"  Are  there  any  kid-gloved-gentry 

Here  on  Canaan's  happy  shore ; 
Such  as  ten-per-cent-reducers, 

Of  the  panic  days  of  yore  ?  " 
Then  his  scowl  looked  liked  the  Heavens 

When  tornados  fiercely  blow, 
As  he  shook  his  saintly  noddle, 

And  just  pointed  down  below  ! 

"  Are  there  any  applications 

For  admission  through  your  gates, 
From  among-  some  gay  conductors, 

Who  have  charge  of  local  freights  ?  " 
Said  the  Saint :  "  They  come  here  begging, 

But  I  take  a  loaded  club 
And  I  knock  them  down  to  blazes, 

Where  they're  caught  by  Beelzebub." 

Sure  he  made  me  so  delighted, 

That  I  asked  him  in  a  joke, 
If  he'd  switch  aside  the  chariot, 

Till  we'd  have  a  social  smoke, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  207 

Oh  !  he  answered  me  quite  gayly, 
And  his  smile  was  most  serene : 

"  Yes,  I'd  thank  you  kindly  Shandy, 
For  a  whiff  from  your  dudeen." 

• 

There  we  sat  and  smoked  together, 

Like  a  jolly  pair  of  boys. 
"  'Tis  the  first  time,"  said  his  Saintship, 
"  That  I've  tasted  Heaven's  joys ; 
Your  old  pipe  is  so  delicious 

That  it  kind  o'  roils  my  head." 

"  Smoke  it  slowly,  then,  my  bouchal, 

And  may  Heaven  be  your  bed. 

"  Are  there  many  dead-head  tickets 

Here  presented  at  the  gate  ?  " 
"  Yes,  my  boy  ;  I've  counted  millions, 

But  1  quickly  seal  their  fate  ; 
They  come  up  and  try  to  pass  me, 

Just  because  their  dying-  day 
Is  employed  donating  treasure 
Which  they  cannot  bring  away." 

"  Are  there  any  railroad  supers 

'Round  about  us  to  be  seen  ?  " 
(t  They  are  like  hen's  teeth,"  said  Peter, 
"  Very  few?  and  far  between," 


208  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"  Where  are  all  those  train  despatchers 
Who  could  pull  so  many  cars  ?  " 

"  They  are  down  below  my  hearty, 

With  their  noses  through  the  bars." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  if  you  ever 
Saw  the  patentee  come  in, 
Of  the  famous  Mack  injector  ?  " 
Sure  the  Saint  begun  to  grin. 
"  Yes,  my  boy  ;  he's  quite  convenient 

To  the  place  we're  sitting-  here. 
And  his  pass  read  :  '  Benefactor 
To  the  railroad  engineer  ! ' 

"  Do  you  ever  have  directors 

From  a  road  that  pays  in  scrip  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't,"  said  Peter, 
"  They  all  take  a  downward  trip !  " 

"  Well,  from  roads  of  heavy  traffic, 
Where  they  pay  us  by  the  mile  ?  " 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  booby  ?  " 
Said  his  Saintship,  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  be  gor  !  I  don't,  your  honor, 
Though  I  never  went  to  school, 
I  can  tell  by  looking  at  you 
That  you're  far  from  being  a  fool ; 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  209 

Yet,  I  thought  I'd  ask  a  question, 

As  I  know  of  two  now  dead, 
Whom  I  swear  could  beat  the  devil." 
"  They're  still  with  him  !  "  Peter  said. 

"  I  suppose  you're  bother'd  hourly, 

By  poor  suffering1  millionaires, 
Who  must  do  some  honest  labor 

Climbing1  up  the  golden  stairs  ?  " 
"  No,  I  never  have  a  caller, 

For  old  Charon  with  his  tricks, 
Locks  them  up  in  summer  villas, 
Right  across  the  river  Styx." 

"  Are  there  any  politicians 

Scattered  here  among  the  stars  ?  " 
"  Nary  one  !  "  said  honest  Peter, 

"  We  could  never  stand  their  jars." 
"  I  suppose  you're  full  of  preachers, 

Who  have  taught  us  how  to  pray  ?  " 
"  You're  mistaken,"  he  responded, 
"  There  are  thousands  drove  away." 

"  There's  a  spring  of  living  waters, 

At  whose  Christianizing  fount 
Flows  a  gospel  universal, 

Named :  '  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount.' 

14 


210  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Those  not  preaching1  it  find  regions 
Where  there's  not  a  flake  of  snow ; 

And  I  pledg-e  my  saintly  honor, 
There  the  hypocrites  must  go." 

When  the  smoking-  made  him  drowsy 

I  commit  a  fatal  sin ; 
Heaven's  keys  I  pilfered  from  him, 

Till  I'd  let  poor  spirits  in. 
At  my  slig-htest  touch  the  wickets 

Widely  opened  in  the  sky. 
Holy  Moses  !  what  a  racket ! 

As  the  ladies  passed  me  by. 

Soon  ten  thousand  peals  of  thunder 

O'er  the  heavens  fiercely  roared  ! 
And  St.  Peter  ran  terrific, 

Armed  with  a  flaming-  sword  ; 
He  drove  back  the  fair  invaders, 

And  I  crouched  in  mortal  fear, 
As  the  weapon  gleamed  above  me, 

While  he  shouted  in  my  ear  : 

"  Oh,  you  unrepentent  rascal ! 

Since  the  earth  was  launched  in  space, 
'Tis  the  first  time  woman's  prattle 
E'er  assailed  this  sacred  place?  " 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  211 

Then  the  flaming-  sword  descended  ; 

As  I  jumped  to  dodge  the  stroke, 
In  a  lethargy  bewildered, 

From  the  vision  I  awoke. 


CHURCH 'MUSINGS. 

Thank  God,  the  forty  days  of  Lent, 
That  He  to  punish  us  has  sent, 

Are  quickly  rolling  on, 
And  ere  these  lines  are  told  to  drink 
Their  modest  draught  of  printer's  ink, 

Once  more  shall  Lent  be  gone. 

For  many  weeks,  with  hungry  moans, 
I've  masticated  myriad  bones 

Of  every  kind  of  fish ; 

I've  cut,  and  slashed,  and  hacked  and  chewed 
Through  all  the  schools  of  scaly  food 

That  penitent  could  wish. 

The  bones  are  piercing  through  my  skin, 
Alas !  I  feel  a  dorsal  fin 

Protruding  'neath  my  vest ! 
Their  gills,  and  scales,  and  slimy  eyes, 
Like  ghosts  around  my  bed  arise, 

To  break  my  needed  rest. 


212  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

My  throttle  arm's  growing  weak, 
The  lever  I  can  scarcely  take 

A  hold  of  like  a  man. 
The  track  is  rough,  I  roll  around, 
Until  I  swear  at  every  bound, 

As  lusty  as  I  can. 

A  solid  dish  of  pork  and  beans, 
Or  bacon,  fried  in  juicy  greens, 

Would  make  my  eye-balls  roll ; 
I  think  'twould  drive  away  more  sin, 
Than  all  I  prayed  since  Lent  came  in ; 

I  do,  upon  my  soul ! 

Oh  !  for  a  steak  cut  from  a  hog-, 
Or  off  a  cow,  or  yonder  dog-, 

Ah,  yes,  or  from  a  cat, 
A  horse,  a  mule,  a  goat,  an  ass — 
I  swear,  this  moment  by  the  mass 

I'd  masticate  a  rat ! 

The  church  forbids,  and  I  must  starve, 
A  piece  of  meat  I  dare  not  carve, 

Or  I  incur  her  bans ; 
Gaunt  hunger  has  a  deadly  gripe 
Unless  on  suction,  like  a  snipe, 

I  feed,  and  foil  her  plans, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  213 

The  Bible  says  to  fast  and  pray, 

'Twas  thus  my  pastor  preached  one  day. 

My  pastor  tells  no  fibs. 
Poor  man  !  he  looks  as  though  he  takes 
His  penance  out  in  sirloin  steaks, 

While  I  pick  codfish  ribs. 

I  know  the  good  man  loves  me  well, 
Far  better  than  my  pen  can  tell, 

For  he  has  told  me  so. 
He  said  to  fast ;  if  not,  my  crimes, 
Together  with  my  railing  rhymes, 

Would  land  me  down  below. 

Since  then  at  church  I'm  always  found, 
I  veiy  seldom  glance  around, 

Except  some  saint  comes  in, 
Whose  features  wear  a  dainty  smile, 
Parading  up  the  middle  aisle, 

To  purge  herself  from  sin. 

Those  saints  I  find  wear  seal-skin  sacques, 
With  ermine  trimm'd  well  down  their  backs, 

And  hats  of  gorgeous  plumes ; 
I  likewise  note  they're  always  late, 
And  strut  along  with  peacock  gait 

To  pews  where  fashion  blooms. 


214  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  wonder  if  they  feed  on  fish, 
Or  on  a  more  ethereal  dish 

Of  sighs  and  saintly  groans  ? 
Perhaps  to  buy  their  gaudy  silk 
They  starve  themselves  on  mush  and  milk 

Or  caudled  codfish  bones. 

My  creed  requires  much  penitence, 
For  every  simple,  slight  offense 

Committed  in  the  flesh ; 
Dear  knows,  the  man  who  pulls  a  train 
In  heat  and  cold,  in  shine  and  rain, 

May  scorn  the  church's  lash. 

I  like  a  sermon  short  and  sweet, 
But  not  a  theologic  treat, 

Beyond  my  simple  reach  ; 
I  also  love  the  fervent  zeal 
An  honest  man  is  sure  to  feel 

Who'll  practice  what  he'll  preach. 

I  like  to  sit  and  criticise 

The  man  who'll  preach  translators'  lies, 

With  sactimonious  ire  ; 
Who  tells  us  that  beyond  the  grave 
Our  sinful  souls  must  always  lave 

In  seas  of  liquid  fire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  215 

When  Gabriel's  trump  shall  wake  the  dead, 
I  know  that  those  who  toiled  for  bread 

Need  have  no  cause  to  fear ; 
I  truly  think  our  Lord  on  high 
Will  give  us  rest  beyond  the  sky 

For  what  we  suffered  here. 


THE  HOMEWARD   BOUND. 

The  seaman's  song-  is  blithe  and  free, 
He  leaves  the  "Goodwins"  on  his  lee. 
His  ship  is  trim,  her  sails  expand 
With  gentle  breezes  from  the  land. 
All  hands  on  deck  the  yards  do  square, 
To  waft  her  through  the  waves  and  air. 
Now,  all  is  clear,  the  harbor  passed, 
And  bending  o'er  each  lofty  mast ; 
The  studding-sails  are  quickly  spread, 
And  in  the  chains  one  heaves  the  lead, 

The  channel's  depths  to  sound ; 
The  pilot  hears  his  answers  shrill, 
Which  forth  he  sends  with  right  good  will. 
The  chorus  of  his  shipmates  tell 
That  all  on  board  are  going  well, 

And  they  are  homeward  bound. 


216  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

For  two  long"  years  on  ocean  wide 
They've  battled  with  the  winds  and  tide. 
They've  sailed  along-  its  liquid  blue, 
From  frozen  Greenland  to  Peru. 
Been  buffeted  in  Arctic  seas, 
And  bronzed  by  many  a  tropic  breeze. 
Exposed  to  gales  and  hot  simoons, 
And  wafted  onward  by  monsoons. 
In  Bay  of  Biscay  lost  a  spar, 
Besides  their  most  courageous  tar. 
Fought  pirates  on  the  Spanish  Main, 
Till  all  were  captured,  drowned,  or  slain. 
The  stars  and  stripes  at  mast-head  high 
Oft  floated  'neath  a  foreign  sky ; 
And  weary  pilgrims  paused  to  see 
Their  country's  flag-  still  flying-  free ; 
Her  ships  well  manned,  both  staunch  and  tr  ue, 
And  fit  to  cleave  the  waters  blue. 
From  out  a  distant  port  her  bow 
Is  pointed  to  the  west- ward  now, 
And  songs  aloft  resound. 

The  pilot  takes  his  leave  when  she 
Is  many  leagues  upon  the  sea. 
Her  course  is  set,  the  watch  remains 
On  deck  to  view  the  steady  strains 
Upon  each  yard,  each  boom,  each  rope. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  211 

Their  hearts  exult  with  joyous  hope, 
For  they  are  homeward  bound. 

A  little  while  and  they'll  behold 
Their  native  land  its  shores  unfold, 
To  bless  the  sight  of  those  who  viewed 
Old  ocean's  face  in  solitude  ; 
Or  seen  the  mighty  billows  rise 
In  madd'ning  leap  at  angry  skies  ; 
Like  liquid  Alps,  their  crests  of  spray 
Picked  up  and  swirl'd  in  flakes  away. 
A  little  while  and  kindred  dear 
Will  greet  them  with  a  love  sincere. 
The  Yankee  girls  will  take  in  tow 
Their  noble  ship  with  glad  heave,  ho  ! 
The  steersman  as  he  leaves  the  wheel, 
Responds  in  words  his  messmates  feel, 

When  his  relief  comes  round  : 
"Her  course  is  west,  Jack,  keep  her  full, 
Make  every  stitch  of  canvas  pull. 
Ball  off  the  knots  with  willing-  hand, 
Until  the  look-out  spies  the  land, 

For  we  are  homeward  bound." 

And  now  the  water's  em'rald  sheen 

Is  changing  to  a  darker  green. 

The  land  birds  perch  upon  the  stays ; 


218  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

And  drift-wood  floats  from  out  the  bays. 
The  coasters  cross  their  wake  and  tell 
That  all  on  hoard  are  doing-  well. 
The  decks  are  holy-stoned  with  care ; 
And  men  are  swung-  in  upper  air, 
To  make  all  ready  for  the  coast, 
Where  seamen  fear  the  danger  most. 
Suspense  upon  their  features  creep, 
And  very  few  on  board  can  sleep — 
For  know  you,  landsmen,  nearing-  home, 
When  over  leagues  of  sea  you  roam, 
There  is  a  fear  which  steals  within 
The  lightest  heart,  that  loves  its  kin — 
That  some  dear  form  you  may  not  spy, 
From  whom  you  went  with  tear-dimm'd  eye ; 
Some  hearth  may  have  a  vacant  chair, 
Since  off  you  sailed  from  loved  ones  there  ; 

Perhaps  beneath  a  mound, 
Your  father  or  your  mother  true 
May  sleep,  whose  parting  breath,  for  you 
Was  sent  to  God  to  guard  you  well, 
With  love  far  more  than  tongue  can  tell, 

And  wished  you  homeward  bound. 

But  see !  The  ensign's  at  the  peak, 
A  passing  ship  they're  going  to  speak. 
Ha !  ha  !  Their  longitude  is  right, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  219 

And  soon  they'll  have  the  beach  in  sight. 
The  frenzied  glances  of  the  crew 
Can't  penetrate  the  hazy  hue 
Which  settles  on  the  ocean's  breast, 
Until  the  sun  glides  down  the  west, 
And  sends  bright  beams  athwart  the  sky 
Through  vapors  dense  that  on  it  lie. 
Eight  bells  are  tolled.     The  watch  is  called. 
The  ground-gear  now  is  overhauled ; 
The  anchors  catted  on  the  rail, — 
But,  hark  !  what  means  that  joyous  hail  ? 
"Land  ho  !  "  the  look-out  wildly  cries, 
"Land  ho  !  "  the  second  mate  replies. 
The  captain  with  his  glass  now  goes 
Aloft  to  see  its  shape  disclose, 
He  sings  his  orders  quick  and  clear, 
And  tells  the  wheelsman  how  to  steer, 
For  Sand3;r  Hook  is  drawing  near, 
And  soon  they'll  be  with  kindred  dear, 

On  well  remember 'd  ground. 
They  drive  away  all  frenzied  fear, 
Care  from  their  bosoms  disappear  ; 
They  dash  him  on  his  ghostly  bier, 
Without  a  pang,  without  a  tear  ; 
Suspense  gives  way  to  joy  sincere, 

For  they  are  homeward  bound. 


220  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Familiar  objects  on  the  shore 
Are  pointed  out,  by  those  once  more, 
Who  viewed  them  weary  months  before, 
When  seaward  their  staunch  frigate  bore  ; 
Whose  keel  plowed  nobly  on  her  course, 
And  triumphed  o'er  the  billow's  force ; 
Until  she  now  rides  safe  and  sound, 
With  anchors  down  in  holding-  ground . 
At  last  the  voyage  is  complete, 
And  terra  firma  'neath  their  feet. 
The  salutation :  "All  is  well," 
The  fears  of  those  on  board  dispel. 

Each  loving-  friend  is  found. 
In  fond  embrace  they're  warmly  clasped, 
And  many  hands  are  stoutly  grasped, 

To  greet  the  homeward  bound. 


TO  CALDWELL  B.   BENSON,  ON   HIS  TRAVELS. 

You're  now  upon  a  foreign  shore, 
In  lands  beyond  Atlantic's  roar, 

'Mid  objects  European. 
Perhaps,  as  here  I  sit  and  sing, 
You're  hob-a-nobbing  with  a  king, 

Or  waltzing  with  his  queen. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Where'er  you  are  I'll  safely  bet, 
Columbia's  shore  you'll  ne'er  forget — 

The  land  which  gave  you  birth. 
You'll  find  she  stands  the  first  of  all 
The  nations,  whether  great  or  small, 

To-day  upon  the  earth. 

You  are  a  man  whose  liberal  mind 
Is  honest,  broad,  and  not  confined 

Within  contracted  bounds ; 
You'll  note,  when  moving  on  your  tour, 
The  gulf  dividing  rich  and  poor, 

On  Europe's  slavish  grounds. 

You'll  find  those  titled  things  they  call 
Lords,  dukes  and  earls,  creatures  all 

Of  very  common  clay ; 
Who  think  they  have  a  perfect  right 
To  trample  o'er,  by  force  of  might, 

God's  poor  who  block  their  way. 

Perhaps  upon  yourself  they'll  sneer, 
Or  on  your  native  land,  so  dear 

To  every  honest  heart ; 
If  so,  they'll  find  your  free-born  soul 
Will  fly  beyond  your  calm  control, 

Bevengeful,  ere  you  part. 


222  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Where'er  in  courts  of  wealth  or  fame 
You'll  chance  to  meet  a  titled  dame, 

Compare  her  with  your  wife  ; 
More  graceful  lines  you'll  plainly  trace 
Upon  her  noble,  handsome  face, 

Than  elsewhere  during-  life. 

Her  features  are  the  truest  chart 
That  ever  yet  indexed  a  heart, 

Where  Virtue's  treasures  reign ; 
Her  social  smile,  her  stately  mien, 
Will  envied  be  by  many  a  queen, 

O'er  Europe's  broad  domain. 

I  haven't  either  time  or  space 
Within  this  book,  or  I  would  trace 

Some  sights  along  your  route ; 
Of  cities  numbered  with  the  dead  ; 
Of  fields  where  ghostly  warriors  tread, 

Which  I  have  read  about. 

Tread  lightly  on  green  Erin's  sod, 
'Tis  nurtured  with  the  martyr's  blood, 

Through  centuries  of  wrong ; 
On  every  hill,  on  every  plain, 
On  rivers  rolling  to  the  main, 

Her  life's  tide  flows  along. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  223 

Her  sons  aspire  to  make  her  free, 
They  will  not  bend  a  slavish  knee, 

In  this  enlightened  age. 
They've  struggled  long  with  little  hope ; 
The  headman's  axe,  the  hangman's  rope, 

Disgrace  her  history's  page. 

On  England's  old,  historic  soil, 
You'll  find  reward  for  all  your  toil, 

Amid  her  wealth  and  fame. 
You'll  see  the  splendor,  pomp  and  glare, 
Of  all  that  mighty  nation  there, 

Around  her  laureled  name. 

When  Scotland's  skies  are  o'er  your  head, 
Oh,  think  upon  the  mighty  dead 

Who  sleep  within  her  womb  ! 
Move  gently  o'er  the  sacred  ground 
Where  pilgrims  walk  in  reverence  round 

Famed  Bobbie  Burns'  tomb. 

Your  piercing,  keen,  observing  glance, 
Shall  note  luxurious  sights  in  France, 

And  flash  with  joy  in  Spain. 
Italian  sights  are  truly  grand, 
Where  art  and  nature,  hand  in  hand, 

Parade  in  gorgeous  train. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

In  German  States  find  out  the  cause 
Why  they  enact  such  stringent  laws 

Against  our  Yankee  pork  ; 
Our  juicy  haras,  well  fried  in  eggs, 
Would  cure  old  Bismarck's  gouty  legs, 

If  cooked  a  la  New  York. 

In  Russia  keep  a  sharp  look  out 
For  victims  of  a  tyrant's  knout ; 

If  not  you'll  feel  a  jar. 
Such  princely  looking  men  as  you, 
Beneath  her  flag  are  very  few ; 

They'll  take  you  for  the  Czar. 

Too  long  I've  spun  this  tedious  rhyme, 
Or  I  would  rove  through  every  clime 

'Neath  Europe's  azure  dome 
With  you,  who  know  if  ladies'  smiles 
Possess  one-half  the  witching  wiles 

Of  melting  maids  at  home. 

I  love  you,  "  Cad,"  your  heart  is  warm ; 
E'en  foes  admire  your  manly  form 

And  independent  mind ; 
Oh,  how  I  love  the  sterling  ring 
Your  voice  contains,  as  forth  you  spring, 

On  cliques  of  every  kind  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  225 

Your  wealth  is  not  the  miser's  hoard, 
You  never  keep  your  riches  stored, 

Secure  with  locks  and  keys ; 
You'll  fling-  it  from  your  open  hand, 
Amongst  the  poor  in  every  land 

Beyond  our  Yankee  seas. 

We  sadly  miss  your  genial  face 
From  every  dear,  accustomed  place 

It  used  to  be  of  yore  ; 
And  may  the  months  speed  quickly  by, 
Until  your  welcome  form  we'll  spy 

Upon  our  trains  once  more. 

When  westward  bound,  with  favoring-  gales, 
Some  swift  Cunarder  spreads  her  sails 

To  bring  your  party  back ; 
I  hope  she'll  cleave  her  liquid  way, 
Triumphant  o'er  old  ocean's  spray, 

Upon  the  starboard  tack. 

And  when  the  gang-plank's  shoved  ashore, 
To  land  you  'rnongst  your  friends  once  more 

Upon  Manhattan's  strand ; 
I  hope  you'll  find  the  brightest  gem 
Of  all  the  nation's  diadem 

Your  own  dear  native  land. 

15 


226  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

ADMIRATION. 

"  What  is  there  to  admire  in  me  ?" 
A  Juno  said  in  tones  serenely, 

"  Come  tell  me  everything-  you  see.  " 
She  uttered  with  a  precept  queenly. 

"  I  see  the  counterpart  of  one 

I  think  as  bright  as  mid -day  sun ; 

Whose  cheeks  are  blooming-  as  the  rose, 

Which  in  some  tropic  garden  grows  ; 

Whose  eyes  are  brighter  than  the  stars 

Called  Venus,  Mercury,  or  Mars ; 

Whose  breath  is  sweet  as  morning  dew, 

Or  spicy  zephyrs  of  Peru  ; 

Whose  hands  are  slender,  small,  and  soft, 

Who  smiles  like  angels  up  aloft ; 

Who  glides  as  graceful  as  the  swan, 

Her  every  attitude  and  motion 
In  you  combine,  then  handsome  one, 

That's  why  I  tender  my  devotion. 

If  I  were  only  fancy  free, 

And  met  you  on  life's  early  morning, 
My  loving  heart  would  sing  in  glee, 

And  win  you  'spite  of  all  your  scorning ; 
I'd  tune  my  harp  to  simple  lays, 
Both  night  and  day  I'd  sing  your  praise, 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  227 

I'd  not  be  conquered  by  despair, 
Faint  heart  ne'er  won  a  lady  fair. 
I'd  never  hesitate  or  falter, 
Until  I  had  you  at  the  altar ; 
And  then  adown  the  tide  of  life, 

Its  hand  in  hand  we'd  go  together, 
When  sailing1  off  the  rocks  of  strife, 

We'd  float  as  buoyant  as  a  feather. 

My  worthy  friend,  why  do  you  ask? 

Why  put  me  to  this  pleasant  task  ? 
Yet,  if  I  had  time  and  leisure, 
I'd  answer  more  with  greatest  pleasure ; 
I'd  tell  you  every  reason  why 
You're  fairest  'neath  this  August  sky. 
Your  mirror  will  reflect  to  you 

When  next  before  its  face  you  stand 
A  queenly  shape,  to  Nature  true 

As  any  from  her  skillful  hand. 


RETROSPECTION. 

How  I  love  to  sit  and  ponder 
On  the  happy  days  of  yore, 

When  the  wine  of  life  raced  freely 
From  an  unexhausted  store ; 


228  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

When  we  battered  Care's  old  castle 

With  a  hearty  fusilade 
Of  sweet  song's  and  merry  laughter, 

'Till  a  breach  was  in  it  made. 

How  the  mind  must  be  surrounded 

With  a  guilty  coat  of  mail, 
That  will  not  look  back  with  pleasure 

To  some  youthful  sunlit  vale ; 
Where  was  raised  the  joyous  chorus 

Of  bare-footed  boys  at  play, 
As  we  danced  amid  the  heather 

On  a  sunny  summer's  day. 

Through  the  misty  clouds  of  vision 

Hovering  o'er  maturer  years, 
I  can  see  the  winding  river, 

Till  my  eyes  o'erflow  with  tears  ; 
I  can  view  those  happy  frolics, 

And  the  mountain  clad  in  green, 
And  the  sweep  of  blooming  heather 

Where  the  lambkins  played  between. 

O'er  the  river's  crystal  waters 
Like  a  sea-fowl  we  could  swim  ; 

We  disdained  the  timid  cowards 
Who  sat  shiv'ring  on  its  brim  ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  229 

O'er  the  mountain  lay  the  world — 

The  horizon  of  our  hopes — 
And  we  burned  with  rash  impatience 

Till  we'd  pass  its  grassy  slopes. 

We  have  passed  them,  drifting1  onward, 

Drifting  downward  with  the  years  ! 
Drifting  o'er  life's  troubled  ocean, 

With  our  freight  of  hopes  and  fears  ! 
Sometimes  tossed  on  mountain  billows, 

Sometimes  on  calm  waters  bore, 
Yet,  we're  drifting — ever  onward — 

To  the  undiscovered  shore  ! 

There  are  islands  in  the  ocean, 

Where  we  sometimes  step  on  land, 
To  enjoy  a  few  brief  moments, 

With  a  transient,  stranger  band. 
But,  alas  !  the  hours  of  pleasure 

Which  we  spare  to  sport  as  men, 
Make  our  bark  but  sail  the  faster 

When  we  step  on  board  again. 

All  the  hopes  of  youth  have  vanished, 

All  its  innocence  has  fled  ; 
In  the  struggle  for  existence, 

We  have  selfishness  instead. 


230  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

In  the  tussle  and  the  jostle 

To  secure  some  petty  prize, 
We  tramp  down  our  weaker  playmates 

Every  morning-  we  arise. 

All  the  treasure  of  this  world — 

And  I  write  the  honest  truth — 
I  would  give,  were  I  the  owner, 

To  renew  my  vanished  youth ; 
To  recall  those  dear  companions, 

Who  have  wandered  to  and  fro, 
From  the  play-ground,  near  the  mountain, 

Since  the  halcyon  long1  ago  ! 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  CLANS. 

RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED  TO  THE  MAYOR  AND  MEMBERS  OF  THE 
COMMON  COUNCIL. 

At  sunrise  every  morning  here, 
From  March  'till  cold  and  bleak  December, 

A  sound  familiar  strikes  the  ear, 
Once  heard  you'll  ever  more  remember. 

It  comes  from  flocks  of  pigs  and  geese, 
That  have  this  corporation's  freedom, 

To  roam  at  large  where  e'er  they  please, 
Or  where  their  chief  marauders  lead  'em. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  231 

On  choicest  spots  of  tender  green, 
Where  care  bestowed  her  longest  hours, 

Those  daring1  outlaws  may  be  seen, 
When  gorging*  on  rare  plants  and  flowers. 

And  when  their  appetites  are  staid, 
The  day's  diversion  soon  will  follow ; 

In  battle-lines  quite  soon  arrayed, 
Extending  over  hill  and  hollow. 

The  pigs  act  umpires  of  the  fight, 
Or  guard  their  rear  from  dogs  and  cattle 

That  interfere,  by  powerful  might, 
To  end  a  long  and  tedious  battle. 

This  morning  perched  upon  a  tree 
I  took  a  careful  observation, 

For  you,  Messieurs,  who  guard  this  free, 
Indulgent,  patient,  corporation. 

Each  flock  is  known  by  stride  and  squeal ; 
Here  comes  a  clan  called  ''Gosling  Alleys." 

The  fight  begins,  around  they  wheel 
To  meet  voracious  Platner  valleys. 

With  fierce  attack  they  charge  the  foe, 
On  flying  feet  and  wings  extended ; 

At  double-quick  they  onward  go, 
'Till  all  are  in  one  dust-cloud  blended  ! 


232  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Now  comes  a  lean  and  lanky  clan 
To  re-inforce  the  Gosling-  Alleys ; 

It  looks  as  if  a  goose-Sedan 
Awaited  all  the  Platner  valleys. 

They  enfilade  from  Duck  Egg  lane  ; 
A  brood  of  pigs  behind  them  follow. 

Their  ganders  play  a  martial  strain, 
And  lead  the  way  to  Corky-Hollow. 

Again  the  contest  is  renewed. 
With  beaks  and  wings,  both  fast  and  furious, 

The  Gosling  Alleys,  unsubdued, 
Extend  their  lines  with  tactics  curious. 

But  hark  !  What  means  that  lusty  shout  ? 
Up  Hoody-Town  a  band  discourses ; 

It  is  the  Green  Road  legion  out, 
To  join  the  Platner  valley  forces  ! 

They  wheel  in  line  and  open  fire ; 
The  Hacker-Roads  prepare  to  meet  'em ; 

The  Hoody-Hills,  with  keen  desire, 
And  clad  in  Duck-Creek  armor,  greet  'em  ; 

The  Green  Road  geese  on  flanks  and  rear, 
Attack  the  half-starved  Gosling  Alleys — 

The  field  is  won  !  that  lusty  cheer 
Comes  from  victorious  Platner  valleys  ! 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  233 

'Tis  thus  they  fight  from  day  to  day ; 
When  shades  of  night  around  them  gather, 

On  streets  and  walks  they'll  march  away, 
Without  the  loss  of  beak  or  feather. 

They'll  forage  on  the  choicest  green 
We  have  in  garden  or  on  horder ; 

A  foul  and  filthy  brood,  unclean, 
Whose  owners  laugh  at  law  and  order. 


UNION   MEETING  AT  ROCHESTER,    N.  Y. 

By  the  clear  and  placid  waters 

Of  Ontario  at  rest, 
Where  the  snowy  wings  of  commerce 

Gently  glide  upon  its  breast, 
I  am  sitting,  meditating, 

Looking  skyward  to  the  moon, 
With  the  memories  around  me 

Of  the  fifth  and  sixth  of  June. 

Oh,  ye  gods !  who  favor  mortals 

In  each  laudable  desire, 
Aid  my  efforts,  I  implore  you, 

Send  one  flash  of  Nature's  fire 


234  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

To  illuminate  the  chambers 

Of  my  dull,  insipid  brain, 
Till  I  sing-  to  distant  Brothers, 

In  an  easy,  truthful  strain. 

It  was  June,  and  'mid  its  roses, 

We  enjoyed  two  days  in  mirth, 
Our  surrounding's  bloomed  and  blossomed  ; 

'Twas  a  paradise  on  earth. 
Nature  donned  her  grandest  raiment ; 

In  resplendent  robes  of  green  ] 
She  received  our  brawny  heroes, 

And  entranced  them  with  the  scene. 

Syracuse  clasped  hands  with  Brothers 

Up  at  Rochester,  and  space 
Never  yet  contained  a  party 

Who  displayed  such  royal  grace ; 
'Twas  a  regal  entertainment, 

Gotten  up  with  greatest  care, 
So  'twould  leave  a  life's  impression 

On  the  guests  assembled  there. 

And  the  frosts  of  many  seasons 
Were  dispelled  amid  the  glow 

Of  fraternal  smiles  of  welcome, 
From  the  friends  of  long  a'go  ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  235 

There  were  hand-clasps  and  heart-greeting's, 

Such  as  only  men  display, 
Who  exchange  the  post  of  duty 

For  the  pleasures  of  a  day. 

Poets  sing-  of  orange  bowers, 

And  of  tropic  songsters,  too, 
And  of  spicy  zephyrs  blowing 

In  the  valleys  of  Peru  ; 
But  they  never  saw  the  glories 

Of  our  northern  summer  clime, 
When  the  Brotherhood  assembles 

For  a  pleasurable  time. 

Heaven  carpeted  our  ball-room 

With  a  spread  of  velvet  green, 
And  the  beaming  smiles  of  beauty 

Gave  enchantment  to  the  scene. 
There  we  went  through  mazy  dances 

Till  the  glorious  god  of  day 
Rose  with  golden  smiles  to  greet  us, 

Ere  we  thought  of  going  away. 

And  our  banquet  hall  outrivaled 

Fable  scenes  in  fairy  land, 
Where  enchantment  loads  the  tables 

By  a  magical  command. 


236  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

It  surpassed  all  former  efforts 
Of  the  Brotherhood  at  large ; 

I  appeal  to  Grand  Chief  Arthur, 
To  sustain  me  in  the  charge. 

'Tis  a  green  spot  in  the  desert 

Of  our  ever  active  lives 
When  we  meet  for  recreation 

With  our  children  and  our  wives ; 
When  we  lay  aside  the  troubles 

Which  beset  our  paths  as  men, 
And  'mid  innocent  amusements, 

We  can  feel  as  boys  again. 


SIT  YOU  DOWN  AT  MY  SIDE. 

Sit  you  down  at  my  side 

Till  I  whisper  awhile  ; 
Let  your  heart  open  wide, 

On  your  face  put  a  smile ; 
For  I  see  you  are  sad, 

There's  a  cloud  on  your  brow, 
And  your  features  are  clad 

In  dejection  just  now. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

All  the  moments  you  spend 

In  gloom,  nursing-  your  pain, 
Hurries  onward  your  end, 

They  press  down  on  the  brain ; 
All  the  smiles  you  put  on, 

Drive  the  wrinkles  away- 
Let  me  see  you  wear  one, 

Change  the  night  into  day. 

Sure  this  life,  love,  is  brief, 

And  your  charms  soon  will  fade ; 
Do  not  linger  in  grief, 

Like  a  surly  old  maid  ; 
But  attend  to  the  words 

Which  I'll  quickly  impart, 
Like  the  warbling-  of  birds, 

Let  them  steal  to  your  heart. 

There's  a  time  to  be  sad, 

'Tis  when  I  am  not  near, 
There's  a  time  to  be  glad, 

When  I'm  with  you,  my  dear; 
There's  a  time  when  you'll  sigh, 

'Tis  when  wishing  for  me ; 
When  I  come  let  each  eye 

Speak  in  welcoming  glee. 


238  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Ah  !  my  love,  now  your  face 

Is  with  pleasure  aglow ; 
On  your  brow  I  can  trace 

Where  the  love  blossoms  blow  ; 
And  your  lips  wear  a  tint 

Of  carnation  so  bright, 
Where  my  kisses  I'll  print 

In  profusion  to-night. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 

JAMES  A.  MCCARTHY,  KILLED  ON  HIS  ENGINE  AT  CARL  YON, 
JULY  2TTH,  1883. 

'Mid  the  terrible  booming1  of  thunder, 

Sharp  lightning1  and  deluge  of  rain, 
Came  the  tidings  of  death  and  disaster 

To  Carlyon's  ill-fated  train  ; 
Where  the  wind's  sudden  rise  in  its  fury, 

Soon  blew  in  a  merciless  gale, 
And  sent  flying-  along  from  the  siding 

A  car  to  spread  death  on  the  rail. 

'T\vas  a  night  when  the  bravest  might  falter 
With  heartstricken  fear  and  despair, 

For  it  seemed  as  if  legions  of  demons, 
Were  out  and  at  war  in  the  air ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  239 

But  the  tide  of  humanity  flowing-, 
O'ercame  every  feeling  of  fright, 

In  the  rescuing-  party  who  labored 
So  bravely  that  terrible  night. 

'Twas  a  sight  that  shall  ne'er  be  forgotten, 

While  reason  presides  in  the  brain, 
To  behold  all  the  dead  and  the  dying, 

Who  rode  on  that  ill-fated  train  ; 
Heaven  pity  them  all !  Here's  one  other, 

Whose  equals  on  earth  were  but  few  ; 
He's  my  noble  professional  brother, 

Who  proved  what  a  brave  man  can  do. 

All  the  newspapers  called  him  a  hero, 

Who  bravely  met  death  at  his  post ; 
Ah,  yes  !  he  remained  on  his  engine, 

To  liter'ly  broil  and  to  roast. 
Not  a  selfish  thought  entered  his  bosom, 

He  stood  on  the  foot-board  resigned, 
With  the  lever  reversed  in  the  quadrant, 

To  save  the  three  hundred  behind. 

* 
His  poor  fireman  was  pulled  out  dismembered 

From  under  the  wreck  where  it  lay, 
And  he,  too,  played  the  part  of  a  hero  ; 

In  fragments  they  bore  him  away. 


240  .  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

They  were  there  like  true  comrades  together, 
Their  lifetides  besprinkled  the  sod, 

And  within  a  few  hours  of  each  other, 
Both  spirits  ascended  to  God. 

Hurry,  Fame,  with  your  brightest  of  laurels, 

To  deck  poor  McCarthy's  last  bed  ; 
He  is  gone  beyond  earthly  assistance, 

And  lies  with  the  heroic  dead  ; 
He  is  one  of  the  army  of  victims 

Whom  duty  requires  every  year 
To  be  foremost  where  danger  lies  thickest, 

And  die  like  a  brave  engineer. 

Hear  the  multitudes  wail  as  we  bear  him 

All  covered  with  flowers  to  the  grave  ; 
Note  the  grief  of  his  kindred  who'd  tear  him 

Away  from  the  ranks  of  the  brave ; 
See  his  five  little,  fatherless  children, 

Who  huddle  up  close  at  the  bier  ; 
Hear  the  sobs  of  his  heart-broken  widow, 

Who  weeps  for  the  dead  engineer. 

He  is  now  laid  at  rest,  and  forever, 
He  sleeps  his  last  sleep  'neath  the  sod  ; 

All  the  wails  of  his  loved  ones  shall  never 
Recall  his  free  spirit  from  God. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  241 

When  on  duty  he  never  did  falter — 
Although  he  loved  children  and  wife — 

But  laid  down  his  all  on  its  altar, 
And,  mind  you,  that  all  was  his  life. 

Oh !  I  know  glorious  deeds  are  recorded 

Above  with  a  merciful  pen ; 
And  I  know  that  all  those  are  rewarded 

Who  act  as  the  savers  of  men. 
When  the  archangel's  trumpet  gives  warning, 

To  call  up  the  heroic  dead 
For  review  on  eternity's  morning, 

Brave  "  Jimmie  "  will  march  at  the  head. 


POUR  OUT  A  GOODLY  CUP  OF  CHEER. 

Pour  out  a  goodly  cup  of  cheer, 

And.  quaff  its  contents  down ; 
Now  out  upon  the  sea  we'll  steer, 

Although  the  skies  may  frown. 
My  bark  is  staunch,  her  hull  and  sails 

Were  built  for  stormy  tides  ; 
Perhaps  she'll  meet  destructive  gales, 

Ere  back  to  port  she  rides. 

16 


242  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Ha  !  ha !  the  land  is  fading-  fast, 

The  cloud-rack  sweeps  the  sky  ; 
The  harbor  lights  are  quickly  past, 

The  seas  run  mountains  high. 
My  crew  are  of  that  mettle  made, 

Who  stand  with  bated  breath  ; 
All  gallant  tars,  and  not  afraid 

To  face  the  monster — death. 

The  thunder  peal  vibrates  o'erhead, 

The  lightning  flashes  free ; 
No  soundings  with  the  deep-sea-lead 

On  weather  or  on  lee. 
The  piping-  winds,  like  giants  hoarse, 

Amid  the  cordage  roar ! 
But  still  we  steer  our  seaward  course, 

Full  many  leagues  from  shore. 

This  driving  pace  begins  to  tell. 

The  goodly  timbers  creak, 
Across  the  decks  roll  ev'ry  swell, 

And  soon  she'll  spring  a  leak, 
Unless  the  larboard  watch  is  called 

On  deck  to  shorten  sail ; 
Brave  hearts  !  they're  up  and  unappalled, 

To  fight  the  roaring  gale  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  243 

The  royals  now  are  safely  stowed, 

And  our  to'gallants  too ; 
But,  see  !  from  off  the  yard  is  blowed 

The  bravest  of  my  crew  ; 
No  human  aid  can  save  his  life, 

He  sinks  beneath  the  wave, 
Where,  undisturbed  by  mortal  strife, 

He'll  fill  a  sailor's  grave. 

i)::)::):***:):* 

The  clouds  beg-in  to  drift  away, 

And  on  our  weather-beam, 
The  sun  sends  down  a  cheering  ray, 

Which  on  the  waters  gleam ; 
It  tells  us  that  all  dangers  o'er  ; 

And  calmly  we  may  glide 
Across  the  placid  seas  once  more, 

Upon  old  ocean  wide. 


EVENING  CHIMES. 

When  the  smoke  wreaths  ascend  in  a  cloud 

round  my  nose, 

Is  the  time  I  enjoy  a  delicious  repose ; 
And  I  bask  in  the  smiles  which  my  fancy  creates, 
On  this  cool,  balmy  eve,  when  the  wide  open  gates 


244  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Of  my  fancy  are  flung-,  to  permit  me  to  stray 
Where  I  choose,  till  the  wreaths  have  all  faded 

away ; 
And  thy  whiffs,  like  the  puffs  of  a  clean-cut 

exhaust, 
Circle  'round  in  the  air  till  in  distance  they're  lost. 

I've  been  reading1  the  Journal  and  found  as  I  read 
Intellectual  treats  from  contributors  spread 
O'er  its  pages,  where  Mind  is  the  monarch  that 

reigns 

In  its  columns,  endowed  with  his  quota  of  brains. 
When  we're  roasting  with  heat  or  when  freezing 

with  cold, 

It  brings  joy  to  our  hearts  every  line  we  behold, 
From  those  kind  and  affectionate  ladies,  whose 

lives 
Are  united  with  ours,  and  signed  "  engineer's 

wives." 

When  we  leave  them  and  bid  them  a  tender  good 
bye, 

How  the  tears  trickle  down  from  each  "plug- 
puller's"  eye, 

As  we  give  them  a  sad  and  disconsolate  kiss, 

Knowing  well  how  the  poor  darling  creatures 
we'll  miss 

When  we're  off  at  the  other  far  end  of  our  route, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  245 

Where  we  never  were  known  to  go  strolling 
about, 

But  remain  in  our  cabs  making  pious  complaints 
To  our  Maker  and  reading-  the  Lives  of  the  Saints. 

Should  we  ever  come  back  with  a  red  hair  or  two 
On  the  sleeves  of  our  coats  and  exposed  to  the 

view 
Of  our  wives,  who  have  long- raven  tresses,  why, 

then, 

Heaven  pity  us  all,  we're  unfortunate  men  ! 
Don't  they  know  in  their  hearts  how  the  smoke 

and  the  gas 
Of  our  engines  can  color  the  paint-work  and 

brass  ? 
And,  of  course,  'tis  the  very  same  process  which 

led 
To  the  change  in  their  own  hair  they  fancied  was 

red. 

I  have  never  yet  heard  of  the  slightest  reliance 
A  woman  would  place  on  the  wonders  of  science. 
She  can  talk  with  a  truly  intelligent  mind 
O'er  a  wide  range  of  topics,  with  learning  refined, 
But  when  once  her  keen  eyes  get  the  sight  of  a 
hair, 

Which  she  thinks,  in  her  foolishness,  shouldn't  be 

there ; 
Oh !  it  don't  matter  much  if  the  color  be  gray, 


246  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

All  her  learning-  takes  wings  and  the  devil's  to 
pay. 

There  are  many  who  think  that  this  calling-  of 

ours 
Is  a  path  where  we  stroll  through  the  rarest  of 

flowers, 

Where  the  lilies  and  roses  and  pansies  reg-ale 
All  the  boys  who  g-o  flying-  along-  o'er  the  rail. 
They'd  be  sadly  mistaken  if  once  at  my  side 
I  could  get  them  to  stand  for  a  fifty-mile  ride  ; 
How  they'd  tumble  about  like  a  colicky  pig-, 
Or  a  bull  in  a  china  shop  dancing-  a  jig-. 

If  our  engines  work  smooth  and  we're  running  on 

time, 

We  can  nerve-strain  relax  and  in  harmony  chime 
With  the  noble  old  steed  that  is  flying  along, 
As  her  nozzles  play  bass,  while  we  warble  a  song; 
But  the  slightest  derangement  which  grates  on 

our  ears 

Ends  abruptly  the  songs  of  the  best  engineers. 
For  myself,  at  such  times,  I'd  prefer  in  the  Fall, 
To  be  driving  old  mules  on  the  "  raging  canawl." 

Brother  Everett,  your  hand !     How  the  years 

have  sped  o'er 

Since  we  clasped  them  together  in  greeting  before! 
You  have  given  unmerited  praise  to  my  name, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  247 

Such  as  only  yourself  could  with  modesty  claim. 
In  your  "Land  that  Lies  Starward"  your  Muse 

on  her  wing- 
Told  us  all  how  she  quaffed  of  the  Helicon  spring-. 
May  she  ever  be  found  soaring-  grandly  along-, 
To  enohle  mankind  with  her  Heaven-sent  song-. 

Now  my  pipe  is  extinguished,  the  daylight  is  gone, 
And  the  brakes  of  my  fancy  are  set,  every  one  : 
There  remain  but  a  very  few  hours  till  I'll  hear 
The  rich  brogue  of  the  caller  saluting-  my  ear. 
He's  the  boy  who  can  knock  every  fanciful  flight 
Of  my  noddle  up  higher  than  Gilderoy's  kite, 
As  he  grunts  and  he  growls  like  the  half-famished 

roar 
Of  a  wolf,  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  at  my  door. 


MINERS'  WAGES  ADVANCED. 

To  HON.  SAMUEL  SLOAN,  PRESIDENT  DELAWARE,  LACKA WANNA  AND 
WESTERN  RAILROAD. 

Your  Honor  :  'Tis  presumption's  self 
That  urged  me  from  my  humble  sphere, 

To  take  my  old  harp  from  the  shelf, 
And  sing  this  strain  to  catch  your  ear. 


248  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

When  I  perused  the  joyful  news 

That  thrilled  through  ev'ry  miner's  breast, 
I  said  :  "  Sam  Sloan  will  ne'er  refuse 

My  humble  thanks  among-  the  rest." 

Thank  God  the  panic  days  are  past ! 

The  ten-per-cent.  cut-downs  are  o'er, 
And  better  times  are  here  at  last, 

To  bless  our  patient  hearts  once  more. 
Indeed  it  was  a  welcome  sight, 

To  read  the  preface  of  my  song, 
It  told  that  dark  misfortune's  night, 

Now  brings  a  brighter  dawn  along. 

I  know  you  have  an  honest  heart, 

And  all  your  boys  here  know  the  same ; 
We  know  you  take  a  poor  man's  part, 

And  think  it  neither  crime  nor  shame. 
We  meekly  bowed  to  each  decree, 

And  gave  it  our  obedient  will, 
That  came  in  panic  troubles  free, 

Performing  all  our  duties  still. 

We  watched  you  stem  the  darkling  tide, 
With  anxious  eyes  we  scann'd  the  stocks, 

And  cheered  you  as  we  saw  you  guide 

Your  roads  secure  through  Wall  Street  rocks, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  249 

Without  the  loss  of  spar  or  sail, 

The  skillful  pilot  that  you  are, 
To  weather  each  financial  gale, 

Till  Morris  and  Essex  stood  at  par. 

No  sooner  is  the  conflict  o'er, 

No  sooner  did  good  times  begin, 
Than  to  each  hardy  miner's  door 

You  stole,  surprising  all  within  ; 
Their  honest  sounds  of  heartfelt  prayer, 

Will  be  in  heavenly  mansions  stored, 
To  greet  your  sure  arrival  there, 

When  called  away  to  your  reward. 

And  now  my  task  is  nearly  done, 

Back  to  oblivion's  depths  I'll  fly, 
And  there  concealed  I'll  try  to  shun 

Your  piercing,  shrewd,  official  eye  ; 
Yet,  ere  I  go,  my  Muse  prevails 

To  have  me  say  before  we  part : 
"  However  fortune  tips  the  scales, 

You'll  always  have  a  human  heart." 

Indeed  there  is  no  use  at  all, 
To  please  the  rude,  discordant  jade, 

Because  that  fact  is  known  to  all 
Your  employes  of  ev'ry  grade ; 


250  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  with  your  hardy  mining-  band, 
We'll  yet  be  heard  in  loud  acclaim, 

O'er  hill  and  dale  throughout  the  land, 
Invoking-  blessings  on  your  name. 


TO   "HANDY  ANDY." 

"Handy  Andy,"  since  Sam  Lover 

Gave  the  character  to  fame, 
Whom  we  all  admire  in  fiction, 

And  from  whom  you  filched  your  name, 
Every  subsequent  aspirant 

Seems  to  blunder  more  and  more 
Than  the  noted  Handy  Andy 

Did,  in  Lover's  days  of  yore. 

You  have  published  me  a  liar, 

And  have  held  me  up  to  view, 
As  a  railer  at  St.  Peter, 

And  my  pious  pastor,  too. 
But  his  Saintship  knows  I'm  human, 

And  will  overlook  a  joke ; 
For  like  all  light-hearted  fellows, 

He  enjoys  a  social  smoke. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  251 

And  to  think  I'd  jibe  my  pastor ! 

Oh,  you  sanctimonious  rogue, 
How  you  moralize  just  like  him, 

In  a  rich,  melodious  brogue ; 
Pointing-  out  the  path  to  Heaven 

For  poor  penitents  to  climb  ; 
While  yourself  may  sin  and  slander 

In  a  sermonizing1  rhyme. 

If  you  sat  with  me  on  Sundays, 

In  a  rear  located  pew, 
With  the  pulpit  and  the  preacher, 

And  the  people  in  full  view, 
Noting  those  who  come  to  worship, 

Clad  in  fashion's  rich  array, 
You  would  surely  whisper,  "Shandy, 

Very  few  come  here  to  pray." 

Note  that  lady  dressed  in  satin, 

See  how  pleasing  she  can  smile ; 
How  her  gorgeous  plumes  are  dancing, 

As  she  sweeps  adown  the  aisle. 
Do  you  think  her  thoughts  are  upward 

Where  the  meek  of  heart  reside  ? 
If  you  do  I'll  differ  with  you, 

For  I  know  she's  full  of  pride. 


252  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

See  the  fashionable  broadcloth 
Of  that  portly-looking-  gent ; 

Whom  I  never  knew  to  labor 
For  an  honest-earned  cent. 

Do  you  think  the  good  St.  Peter 
Will  throw  Heaven's  gates  ajar 

To  admit  him,  after  taking- 
Poor  men's  dimes  across  his  bar  ? 

See  the  cushions  made  of  velvet, 

Where  they  sit  and  take  their  ease, 
While  we  poor,  less  favored  mortals, 

On  rough  boards  must  bend  our  knees. 
Hear  how  eloquent  the  preacher 

Thunders  Scripture  at  the  Jews  ! 
As  he  smiles  upon  the  G  entiles, 

In  the  velvet-cushioned  pews. 

Oh,  no,  Andy ;  I'm  no  railer, 

And  I  don't  deny  my  creed ; 
But  I  criticise  those  preachers, 

Who  on  choicest  fare  may  feed  ; 
Who  ignore  the  poor  and  lowly, 

While  the  rich  may  favors  count. 
'T wasn't  thus  the  Galilean 

Promulgated  from  the  Mount. 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  253 

Have  you  ever  ran  an  engine 

When  the  wintry  winds  did  roar, 
When  the  snow,  in  avalanches, 

Piled  against  the  furnace  door  ? 
When  the  two  old  pumps  were  frozen, 

And  the  works  a  mass  of  ice  ? 
If  you  have,  don't  fear  the  preachers, 

For  you're  sure  of  Paradise. 

Have  you  ever  felt  the  burning 

Of  the  sun,  in  hot  July, 
When  the  cab  would  suffocate  you, 

And  you  really  thought  you'd  die  ? 
If  you  have,  you  need  not  worry 

Much  on  what  the  preachers  tell, 
For,  dear  Andy,  I  assure  you, 

It  exceeds  the  heat  of  hell. 

Now,  my  bouchal,  in  conclusion, 

Let  me  whisper  in  your  ear  : 
"In  the  great  unknown  hereafter, 

We'll  be  better  off  than  here ; 
While  some  Scriptural  expounders, 

Whom  we  very  often  meet, 
Will  require  the  polar  regions 

To  allay  their  burning  heat." 


254  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

YOU  ARE  ALL  THAT  MY  FANCY  CAN  WISH  FOR, 
MY  DEAR. 

You  are  all  that  my  fancy  can  wish  for,  my  dear ; 

You're  a  bright  little  goddess  of  beauty  ; 
But  a  trifle  too  proud  in  your  notions,  I  fear, 

And  a  slave  to  the  strict  line  of  duty. 
If  you'd  banish  those  prudish  opinions  you  hold, 

And  upon  my  devotion  take  pity, 
Sure  I'd  prize  you  far  more  than  full  coffers  of 
gold, 

And  I'd  "worship  your  charms,  dear  Kittie. 

You  are  yet  in  your  teens,  so  am  I,  my  dear  love, 

Or  perhaps  I'm  a  year  or  two  older ; 
Let  us  sip  of  those  sweets  Heavensent  from  above, 

Ere  the  years  make  our  passions  grow  colder ; 
We  can  nobly  defy  all  the  trials  of  life, 

While  our  hearts  are  as  buoyant  as  feather  ; 
For  with  youth,  health,  and  hope,  and  yourself 
for  my  wife, 

We  will  share  joy  and  sorrow  together. 

Let  your  lips  meet  with  mine  till  our  souls  shall 
unite, 

Do  not  frown  at  my  loving  advances  ; 
But  be  human,  and  pledge  your  affection  to-night, 

Let  my  heart  read  its  doom  in  your  glances. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  250 

Ah  !  I  see  you  respond  to  me,  darling1,  that  smile 
Is  a  silent,  though  certain  consent,  dear,  . 

For  it  comes  from  your  heart  that's  untrammeled 

by  guile, 
Oh !  I  hope  you  shall  never  repent,  dear. 


EIGHTY-THREE,  FAREWELL 

Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  old  friend ! 

The  time  is  drawing-  near, 
When  all  our  intercourse  shall  end ; 

I  tell  you,  with  a  tear. 
Old  Time,  that  drives  with  rapid  pace 

O'er  earthty  hills  and  dales, 
Shall  quickly  hide  your  wrinkled  face 

Beneath  our  snow-clad  vales. 

And  yet,  before  you  do  depart 

Into  the  great  unknown, 
To-night  I'll  ope  to  you  my  heart, 

As  here  we  sit  alone ; 
For  you  have  been,  in  many  ways, 

A  true  and  faithful  friend, 
Whom  I'll  revere,  until  my  days 

Ofjfteeting  life  shall  end. 


256  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  very  moment  of  your  birth 

I  heralded  with  joy  ; 
And  peans  rang-  o'er  all  the  earth, 

To  greet  the  graceful  boy. 
You  then  were  in  your  swaddling-clothes, 

A  youth  of  promise  fair, 
A  messenger  of  love  to  those 

Who  suffered  grief  and  care. 

For  plenty  smiled  all  o'er  the  land, 

The  wheels  of  traffic  ran 
With  steady  speed,  on  every  hand, 

To  bless  the  toiling  man ; 
The  wolf  of  hung-er,  'mongst  the  poor, 

Relaxed  his  deadly  hold ; 
The  merchant  felt  his  risk  secure 

Accumulating1  gold. 

My  Brothers  of  the  mystic  ring-, 

Whose  countersign  is  B, 
Shall  mourn  you  as  a  much-loved  king-, 

Dear  Eighteen  Eighty-three. 
Because  throughout  your  reign  we  found 

Good  friends  with  voice  and  pen, 
And,  for  the  same,  kind  thanks  resound 

From  fifteen  thousand  men. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  257 

From  Manitoba's  fruitful  soil 

To  tropical  Brazil, 
We  found  reward  for  honest  toil, 

And  friends  are  with  us  still. 
From  far  Pacific's  golden  sands, 

Each  man  who  leads  a  train, 
Extends  congratulating-  hands 

To  Brothers  o'er  in  Maine. 

I  fain  would  have  the  horoscope 

Of  your  successor  read, 
But,  ere  his  eyes  on  earth  shall  ope, 

You'll  join  the  legions  dead. 
We'll  mourn  you  with  a  doleful  tear, 

To  speed  your  parting  soul, 
And  then  to  greet  the  young  New  Year, 

The  joyous  bells  shall  toll. 

Upon  your  patriarchal  brow, 

I  note  a  sombre  cloud ; 
Poor  friend  !  your  hours  are  numbered  now, 

You'll  soon  be  in  your  shroud. 
Perhaps  amid  a  much-loved  few, 

Who've  reached  the  mystic  shore, 
I'll  hold  communion  yet  with  you, 

Where  parting  is  no  more. 

17 


258  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  if  our  worldly  ways  are  there 

A  social  bowl  we'll  drain, 
Of  nectar  or  some  vinous  rare 

And  sparkling-  as  champagne. 
Amid  the  perfume  gales  that  blow 

Bound  some  celestial  vine, 
We'll  chat  of  scenes  we  loved  below, 

In  days  of  Auld  Lang-  Syne. 

Expounders  of  the  Scriptures  say 

Eternal  joys  await 
All  those  on  earth  who  fast  and  pray, 

To  reach  the  guarded  gate, 
Where  ransomed  souls  shall  enter  in 

To  homes  of  endless  love ; 
If  so,  I'll  purge  my  soul  of  sin, 

So  we  shall  meet  above. 

At  last  the  parting  hour  has  come, 

I'll  grasp  your  palsied  hand ; 
With  arms  reversed  and  muffled  drum, 

Your  predecessors  stand ; 
They'll  take  you  hence  beyond  the  skies, 

I  hear  the  tolling  bell, 
As  I  repeat,  with  tearful  eyes, 

Dear  Eighty-three,  farewell. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  259 

COME  MY  LOVE,  WITH   RAVEN  TRESSES. 

Come,  my  love,  with  raven  tresses, 

Here  and  sit  beside  me  now ; 
Come  and  give  me  sweet  caresses, 

While  the- ring-lets  from  your  brow 
I  will  brush  with  touches  tender, 

'Till  I  see  your  face  aglow, 
In  the  tlush  of  joyous  splendor, 

Like  the  happy  long-  ag-o  ! 

Ah  !  the  years  we've  left  behind  us 

Have  been  fraug-ht  with  care  and  strife  ; 
Yet  they  served  to  closety  bind  us 

On  the  rug-g-ed  road  of  life  ; 
For  our  hearts  have  never  faltered, 

Nor  our  love  diminished  cold ; 
Thoug-h  our  features  may  ha.ve  altered, 

And  the  years  have  made  us  old. 

We  are  drifting  sure  and  steady 

To  the  great  unknown  beyond  ; 
But  when  summoned  we'll  be  ready, 

We'll  resignedly  respond. 
Dismal  death  can  have  no  terrors 

For  an  ang-el  such  as  you ; 
And  your  soul,  devoid  of  errors, 

Shall  have  mine  shown  mercy  too. 


260  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR. 

Hear  the  bells  as  they  ring-  pealing  out  on  the 

night ; 
From  their  clear,  brazen  throats  issue  sounds  of 

delight ; 
Through  the  portals  of  time  there's  a  stranger 

who  comes, 
'Mid  the  blare  of  loud  trumpets  and  beating  of 

drums. 

Let  us  give  him  a  right  royal  welcome,  and  sing- 
Out  hozannas  to  God,  for  this  juvenile  King. 
Let  us  all  emphasize  the  old  greeting  sincere, 
And  exclaim  full  of  meaning  :    "  A  Happy  New 

Year ! " 

'Tis  a  custom  enjoyed  in  all  civilized  lands 

To  go  out  making  calls  and  take  friends  by  the 

hands 
At  the  birth  of  the  year,  'mongstthe  rich  and  the 

poor, 

I  have  ordered  my  chariot  'round  to  the  door. 
Hear  my  Pegasus  neigh  !  He's  impatient  to  fly ! 
I  am  mounted  at  last  and  away  through  the  sky  ! 
At  the  speed  I  am  going  I'll  rapidly  near 
A  few  friends,  whom  I'll  greet  with  a  Happy  New 

Year. 

I  see  Cleveland  beneath.    Down,  my  Pegasus, 
down ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  261 

I  have  got  a  few  friends  to  salute  in  this  town. 
P.  M.  Arthur,  your  hand!  Dash  the  clouds  from 

your  brow, 

For  I'm  not  going-  back  to  my  darlings  just  now. 
Till  I  pay  my  regards.   Here's  your  hearty  good 

health  ! 
May  your  coffers  keep  full  to  o'erflowing  with 

wealth — 

Do  not  mind  the  decanter,it  makes  me  feel  queer — 
Most  sincerely  I  wish  you  a  Happy  New  Year. 

T.  S.  Ingraham's  next.    Here's  his  latch-string- 
outside,  , 

1  will  enter.  Good  morning.  I've  had  quite  a  ride. 
I  am  here  with  an  honest  intention  to  take 
Firm  grasp  of  your  hand  for  a  friendly  old  shake. 
Please  convey  to  J.  H.  S.  my  kindest  regards, 
And  just  say  that  "  Dead  Beats  "  are  not  found 

among  bards. 

Ere  I  leave  let  me  trumpet-tone  into  your  ear : 
From  my  heart's  depths  I  wish  you  a  Happy  New 
Year. 

Now,my  noble  old  steed,toyour  mettle  once  more, 
Till  we  make  a  short  call  on  a  far  distant  shore. 
There  are  mountains  below,  if  my  longitude's 
right ; 

Yes,  the  Rockies  are  here,  on  this  crag  I'll  alight, 
Till  I  find  G.  D.  Folsom.  A  man  who  can  sit 


262  SHANDY  MAGtttRE. 

In  a  car  and  delight  us  with  learning  and  wit : 
Ah,  he's  found  amid  nature's  sublimity  here. 
Brother  Folsom  I  wish  you  a  Happy  New  Year. 

Oh  !  I'd  like  to  go  farther ;  but  see  how  the  sun 
Is  outstripping  my  steed,  that's  enjoying  the  fun. 
Every  place  where  we  call  he  drinks  down  to  the 

dregs. 

By  the  aid  of  his  wings  he  now  steadies  his  legs. 
How  I'd  love  Californian  wonders  to  see  ! 
And  the  almond-eyed,  rat-eating  heathen  Chinee ! 
But,  my  boys,  though  I  cannot  partake  of  your 

cheer, 
Take  the  will  for  the  deed,and  a  Happy  New  Year. 

Now  I'moffto  the  South,  where  I'dgladly  remain, 
For  the  night  of  my  steed  is  distracting  my  brain. 
How  the  cities  appear  and  dissolve  into  space  ! 
Here  is  Dixie  below  ;  I  will  slacken  my  pace, 
And  alight.  O,  my  boys,  I'm  delighted  to  say 
That  there's  joy  in  my  heart  to  behold  you  to-day  ! 
Please  dilute  that  red  liquid,  pour  lightly,  I  fear 
I've  indulged  rather  freely.  A  Happy  New  Year. 

Bear  me  back  to  the  East,  while  my  senses  remain, 
'Mid  the  joys  of  to-day  there  are  echoes  of  pain. 
Brother  Everett,  the  best  of  good  wishes  I  bring 
To  your  grief-stricken  home,  where  old  Death 
left  a  sting-. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  263 

1  expected  to  meet  you  at  Buff 'lo,  but  heard 
Of  the  speedy  recall  which  our  meeting-  deferred. 
Now,  my  worthy  old  friend,  whom  I'll  always 

revere, 
May  your  grief  be  allayed  by  a  Happy  New  Year. 

Up  and  off  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie  to  greet 
A  few  boys  of  Fifteen,ere  our  rounds  are  complete. 
Here's  a  wide-open  door,  uninvited  I'll  call. 
What  a  joyful  surprise  !  Pleasant  evening  to  all ! 
See  ho  wCallahan  smiles  as  he  pours  out  the  wine — 
Brother  Forestall,  please  put  cold  water  in  mine — 
Hank  Glendenning,  your  health  !  Let  us  drink 

with  a  cheer 
For  the  boys  of  Fifteen  on  this  Happy  New  Year. 

"  Handy  Andy,"  acushla !     I'll  have  to  repent 
For  my  feasting  to-day,  and  do  fasting  next  Lent. 
You'll  excuse  me,  I  hope,  I'm  as  "  full  as  a  tick." 
And  I've  thrown  for  awhile,  all  my  cares  to  Old 

Nick. 

Please  uncork  a  fresh  bottle,  it's  contents  we'll 
drain. 

Fill  our  glasses  once  more  full  of  fancy's  cham 
pagne  ! 

'Tis  the  "stirrup  cup,"  Andy,  ere  homeward  I 
steer, 

Which  I  drink  as  I  wish  you  a  Happy  New  Year. 


264  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Now  for  home.  It  is  time  to  be  stretched  on  the 

bed. 
There's  the  devil's  tattoo  drumming-  round  in  my 

head ! 

If  my  steed  wasn't  jaded  I'd  ride  through  the  sky 
Wishing- Happy  New  Year  till  the  Fourth  of  July. 
As  I  entered  my  cot  at  Ontario's  shore, 
Here's  the  brief  salutation  I  g-ot  at  the  door  : 
"  There's  no  need  of  me  wishing  you  pleasure,  my 

dear, 
For  I  see  you've  been  having  a  Happy  New  Year." 


TO   MY  BLACKTHORN  CANES. 

(PRESENTED  BY  MR.  C.  B.  BENSON.) 

You  are  welcome,  gladly  welcome, 

And  my  heart  is  in  a  flame, 
As  I  grasp  you,  meditating- 

On  the  land  from  whence  you  came. 
On  that  Island  in  the  ocean, 

Where  Atlantic  fiercely  roars, 
With  a  never-ceasing-  fury, 

On  its  weather-beaten  shores. 

What  an  eloquent  description 

Of  that  Island  in  the  sea, 
I  have  heard  from  him  who  brought  you 

From  its  verdant  hills  to  me  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  265 

With  a  tourist's  eye  he  noted 

How  old  Nature's  lavish  hand 
Spread  the  richest  scenes  of  verdure 

In  poor  Paddy's  native  land. 

You're  a  gnarled  looking-  stranger, 

But  you're  welcome  just  the  same ; 
And,  "my  kippeen  of  shelalah" 

You  are  not  unknown  to  fame ; 
For  at  patterns,  fairs  and  races, 

I  have  heard  of  you  before, 
Where  the  "peelers"  fled  before  you, 

Or  lay  sprawling-  in  their  gore. 

Where  coercion  acts  are  yearly 

Manufactured  to  enslave 
The  aspiring  thoughts  of  Paddy, 

If  for  freedom  he  should  crave ; 
Where  the  right  to  carry  arms 

For  protection  is  denied, 
'Tis  no  wonder  that  Shelalahs 

Are  so  noted  far  and  wide. 

You  are  now  among  the  Yankees, 
Where  a  man  who  toils  for  bread, 

If  he's  sober,  just  and  honest, 
Can  erectly  hold  his  head, 


266  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  be  peer  among-  his  neighbors, 
For  no  titled  hordes  have  we 

To  debase  us  worse  than  cattle, 
As  they  do  beyond  the  sea. 

So,  my  "splinter  of  shelalah," 

And  my  two  blackthorn  canes, 
You'll  be  kept  amid  my  treasures, 

While  a  throb  of  life  remains. 
For  the  sake  of  him  who  brought  you 

From  old  Ireland's  rebel  glades 
You  are  all  sincerely  welcome 

To  my  daily  promenades. 


NUDISVERBIS. 

To  WM.  B.  PHELPS,  OSWKGO,  N.  Y. 

On  a  feverish  night  I  unconsciously  strayed 

Into  one  of  my  troublesome  dreams, 
When  I  fancied  I  saw,  in  his  grave  clothes  ar 
rayed, 

My  old  friend,  by  the  sun's  setting  beams. 
As  an  earnest  spectator  I  stood  'mid  the  crowd 

Of  deep  mourners,  dejected  and  dreary, 
Where  were  chanted  in  accents  of  anguish  aloud, 

The  grave  strains  of  the  sad  Miserere. 


SHANDY  MAGUlfcE.  26? 

Soon  the  churchman  arose,  with  a  sanctified  look, 

To  bestow  the  last  rites  on  the  dead, 
And  the  service  laid  down  for  his  guide  in  the 
book, 

He  most  fervent  and  feelingly  read ; 
At  its  close  he  selected  a  text  and  essayed 

To  mechanic'ly  handle  his  theme  ; 
'Tvvas  the  standard  formula  church  parliaments 
made, 

And  I  murmured  dissent  in  my  dream. 

'Twas  "  From  ashes  to  ashes  and  dust  unto  dust, 
What  the  Lord  gives  he  surely  will  take  ; 
In  divine  revelation  we'll  earnestly  trust, 

And  be  faithful  on  earth  for  His  sake. 
Now  we'll  tenderly  place  the  remains  in  the  tomb, 

Till  the  arch-angel's  trump  from  the  sky — 
"Stand  ye  back  !"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  sprang-  from 
the  gloom, 

With  the  tears  rolling  down  from  each  eye. 

"Stand  ye  back,  let  me  say  a  few  words  that  are 

not 

On  your  glib,  orthodoxical  chart ; 
Let  me  preach  o'er  the  dead, on  this  grief-stricken 

spot, 

In  the  eloquent  lore  of  the  heart ; 
For  I've  known  him  and  felt  the  kind  grasp  of  his 
hand, 


268  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

As  it  gave  me  a  magnetic  thrill, 
Like  the  touch  of  a  holy  seer's  magical  wand, 
And  its  pressure  is  lingering  still. 

"  There  he  lies  with  the  life- tide  congealed  in  his 

veins, 

For  his  spirit  has  vanished  away, 
And  his  heart  that  could  throb  for  humanity's 

pains, 

Is  now  cold  in  its  casket  of  clay. 
I  have  known  him  to  steal  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 

With  good  cheer  loaded  down,  to  some  door, 
Where  he'd  quickly  transform  into  thankful  de 
light 
The  complaints  of  the  luckless  and  poor. 

He  ne'er  paused  to  inquire  of  what  country  or 
creed 

Was  the  man  whom  he  took  to  his  heart, 
But  he  hugged  him  up  close  with  a  miserly  greed, 

Nevermore  from  its  shrine  to  depart. 
Oh,  he  looked  not  to  find  geographical  lines, 

He  was  deaf  to  sectarian  rules, 
As  he  mingled  with  friends  beyond  narrow  con 
fines, 

Of  the  bigoted,  cynical  schools. 

He  was  human,  and  erred  in  those  trivial  things, 
To  which  men  who  are  human  incline ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  269 

Now,  let  all  of  you  here  who  are  faultless,  spread 
wing's, 

And  fly  off  from  this  earth,  you're  divine ; 
Ah !  I  see  you  remain,  which  is  proof  that  my 
dead 

Benefactor  had  virtues  so  bright, 
That  have  ransomed  his  soul,  as  it  heavenward 

fled, 
Into  mansions  of  endless  delight. 

"Brilliant  flashes  of  wit  instantaneously  ran 

Through  these  lips  that  are  sealed  evermore ; 
Such  a  mind  has  been  rarely  bestowed  upon  man, 

Full  of  choice  chronological  lore. 
How  his  forefathers  conquer'd  or  gloriously  died, 

As  they  fought  for  their  country  and  right, 
In  the  days  when  men's  souls  were  most  stren 
uously  tried, 

Gave  my  friend  patriotic  delight. 

"Systematic  and  strict  were  his  dealings  with  all, 
But  his  laws  were  with  justice  applied ; 

If  we  erred  and  atoned  he'd  the  balance  let  fall 
To  the  humane  and  merciful  side. 

Ah !  he  ruled  us  with  kindness  and  treated  us 
here 

As  his  equals,  and  not  as  his  slaves. 
We  shall  weep  for  him  hourly,  in  anguish  sincere, 
Till  we  follow  him  into  our  graves." 


270  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

As  I  ceased,  came  a  wail  of  response  from  the 
crowd, 

A  most  heart-rending1,  ear-piercing-  scream, 
It  arose  like  the  belching-  of  thunder,  aloud, 

And  awakened  me  out  of  my  dream. 
'Twas  a  giad  transformation  from  grief  to  delight 

As  the  vision  of  death  fled  in  gioom, 
To  behold  my  old  friend  looking  hearty  and  bright 

Whom  I  fancied  was  laid  in  the  tomb  ! 


THE  EXILES. 

They  sat  by  the  camp-fire,their  day's  toil  was 
over. 

The  song-  and  the  chorus  went  merrily  round  ; 
And  yet  an  observer  could  plainly  discover 
That  they  were  all   exiles  whose  songs   did 

abound ; 

They  sang  in  full  chorus  grand  anthems  delighted , 

Their  memories  wander'd  to  scenes  far  away ; 

With  hearts  full  of  love   their  devotion   they 

plighted 
To  Erin,  their  mother,  those  exiles  so  gay. 

They  thought  of  the  scenes  where  in  boyhood  they 

sported, 

The  mountains,  the  meadoAvs,  the  rivers,  the 
plains, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  271 

The  fields  where  for  pleasure  they  often  resorted, 
Were  fondly  remember'd  in  soul-stirring  strains ; 
Fond  hope  in  each  bosom  was  joyously  spring-ing1, 

Each    face    was    aglow  with  remembrances 

bright, 

As  back  o'er  the  ocean  their  fancies  went  winging 
To  all  their  young  frolicsome  scenes  of  delight. 

All  true  to  the  flag  of  Columbia,  dearly 
They  loved  to  behold  it's  bright  folds  in  the 
breeze ; 

But  there,,  in  a  bond  of  true  brotherhood  yearly, 
They  sang  of  the  old  land  far  over  the  seas  ; 

They  pledged  hertheir  heart's  deepest  ties  of  affec 
tion, 
While  life  would  remain  they  would  faithfully 

be; 

They  hoped  ev'ry  link  in  her  chain  of  subjection 
Would  soon  from  her  limbs  be  knocked  off  and 
she  free. 


TWO  PICTURES. 

When  wintry  winds  in  fury  beat 
The  habitations  of  the  poor, 

And  stride  along  on  nimble  feet 
To  many  an  unprotected  door  ; 


272  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Oh,  then,  the  suffering1  ones  within 

Have  agonizing-  ills  to  bear, 
As  huddled  round,  in  clothing  thin, 

They  drink  the  dregs  of  dark  despair 

Convenient  to  the  poor  man's  shed 

A  stately  palace  rises  high ; 
Its  smallest  stone,  if  sold  for  bread, 

Would  make  the  wolf  of  hunger  fly. 
Its  fountains  flash  in  brilliant  jets, 

From  beams  of  massive  chandeliers ; 
No  wonder  that  its  lord  forgets 

The  bitter  wail  of  human  tears. 

His  lady  fair  can  hourly  ride 

In  furs  and  robes  of  costly  price  ; 
And  on  the  frozen  streets  may  glide, 

In  festive  mirth,  'mid  snow  and  ice. 
Her  days  move  on  in  joy  serene, 

Her  nights  amid  the  ball-room's  glare  • 
She's  paid  the  homage  of  a  queen, 

By  those  who  circle  round  her  there. 

The  splendor  of  her  equipage 
Outrivals  eastern  chariots  old ; 

Her  prancing  steeds  are  all  the  rage, 
Their  trappings  decked  with  virgin  gold, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  273 

Her  lap-dog1  has  more  tender  care 
Than  thousands  of  God's  lowly  poor ! 

'Tis  fed  upon  such  dainty  fare 
As  will  its  brutish  tastes  allure. 

Oh,  if  she'd  only  pause  and  think, 

How  much  distress  her  wealth  could  save 
Amongst  the  crowds  that  starving-  sink 

Down  into  many  a  nameless  grave ; 
Perhaps  upon  life's  tragic  stag-e, 

A  Christian  part  she'd  of  tener  play ; 
The  tears  of  grief  she  could  assuag-e, 

And  drive  much  discontent  away. 

See  yonder  child,  her  feet  are  bare, 

Her  half-clad  body  shakes  with  cold ; 
The  snow  flakes  kiss  her  tang-led  hair, 

More  golden  than  the  purest  gold. 
Alas  !  she  weeps  for  parents  dead. 

She  seeks  from  passers-by  relief ; 
A  penny  or  a  crust  of  bread 

Would  dull  the  pangs  of  childish  grief. 

Poor  waif  upon  life's  stormy  sea ! 

Too  soon  your  ill-starr'd  37outh  shall  fade, 
There's  no  relief  or  sympathy 

From  costly  silks  and  rich  brocade. 

18 


274  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

In  hearts  like  ours  the  echoes  lie, 
Which  spring  to  life  in  accents  wild. 

Whene'er  we  hear  the  doleful  cry 
Ascend  from  poor  misfortune's  child  ! 

Down,  pen  !  more  skillful  hands  than  mine 

Must  wrestle  with  man's  grievous  wrongs, 
And  speak  inspired  from  every  line, 

Instead  of  rude,  discordant  songs. 
The  task — it  seems  devoid  of  hope ; 

I  fear  the  poor  must  drift  in  gloom, 
Until  the  skies  in  glory  ope, 

To  call  us  hence  from  out  the  tomb. 


MY  LOVE  IS  A  BLOOMING  YOUNG  MAIDEN. 

My  love  is  a  blooming  young  maiden, 

Endowed  with  a  frolicsome  mind. 
Her  eyes  are  with  witcheries  laden, 

As  ever  'mongst  maidens  you'll  find. 
She's  gentle,  kind-hearted,  and  loving-, 

And  says  she  is  faithful  to  me. 
I  fear  her  affections  go  roving 

Too  often  in  frolicsome  glee. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  27o 

One  eve  in  the  twilight  I  caught  her 

Up  close  in  my  fervid  embrace, 
And  there  on  my  bosom  I  taught  her 

The  love  of  my  heart  in  my  face. 
She  tore  herself  off  and  she  started 

Away  with  the  speed  of  the  wind ; 
'Twas  thus  in  the  gloaming  we  parted, 

And  lonely  I  linger 'd  behind. 

The  next  time  we  met  1  demurely 

Sat  listening  to  lectures  she  gave — 
Her  mother's  eyes  watched  us  securely — 

I  promised  to  always  behave ; 
Of  course  I  surrender'd  discreetly  ; 

What  better  just  then  could  I  do  ? 
Because  I  was  shadow'd  completely, 

Right  there  with  her  mother  in  view. 

The  clock  told  the  hour  of  leave-taking. 

Young  Flora  strolled  out  in  the  porch, 
Her  sides  full  of  laughter  were  shaking, 

And  I  like  a  deacon  at  church, 
Until  we  were  clear  of  the  prying 

Her  mother  directed  along ; 
Again  I  embraced  her,  defying 

The  eyes  that  were  watching  for  wrong. 


276  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

My  kisses  profusely  were  given 

On  lips  luscious  ripe  to  be  pressed ; 
I  there  had  a  foretaste  of  Heaven, 

As  I  pretty  Flora  caressed. 
When  off  from  the  gaze  of  her  mother, 

She  g-ave  all  her  feelings  full  play, 
And,  ere  with  affection  we'd  smother, 

We  tore  ourselves  slowly  away. 


MY  FIREMAN. 

There  he  sits  with  a  smile  on  his  black, smoky  face, 
And  a  droll-looking-  glance  in  his  eye, 

As  he  notes  how  the  "pointer  "  keeps  up  in  its 
place, 

As  our  noble  old  steed  seems  to  fly. 
He's  the  happiest  man  to  be  found  on  the  train, 

For  I  promised  I'd  write  him  a  song, 
To  the  air  of  that  musical,  pious  refrain  : 

"  And  we'll  Roll  the  Old  Chariot  along." 

Yes,  I'll  write  him  a  rhyme ;  'tis  the  least  I  can  do 

For  a  lad  whom  I  really  admire, 
And,  besides,  my  dear  reader,  he's  one  of  the  few 

Who  can  closely  attend  to  his  fire. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  27 v 

He  imagines  he  has  a  fine,  musical  ear, 
Though  he  can't  tell  a  march  from  a  jig ; 

And  his  voice,  which  he  fancies  melodiously  clear, 
Has  a  trill  like  the  grunt  of  a  pig. 

But  aside  from  his  musical  talents,  he  knows 

He  is  gifted  in  ways  I  despise ; 
All  the  men  on  the  trains  are  our  deadliest  foes, 

Just  because  he's  the  father  of  lies ; 
And  many  a  time  in  the  cab  when  we've  found 

A  full  share  of  annoyance  and  grief, 
A  train  man  or  two  we'd  see  prowling  around, 

To  berate  the  uncrucified  thief. 

If  it's  tallow  or  waste  we're  in  need  of  he'll  seek 
Out  the  place  where  they  hide  their  supplies, 

And  will  pilfer  sufficient  to  last  us  a  week, 
Right  from  under  the  baggage-man's  eyes. 

There  is  scarcely  a  trip  that  we  make  but  I'm 

starved, 
For  I  never  yet  knew  him  to  fail 

In  selecting  the  tid-bits,  all  seasoned  and  carved, 

Which  I  carry  for  lunch  in  my  pail. 

He  shall  soon  change  his  seat  right  across  to  the 

place 
Where  the  wrinkles  shall  furrow  his  brow, 


278  SHANDY  MAGUTRE. 

And  the  deep  lines  of  thought  shall  be  marked  on 
his  face, 

That  looks  beardless  and  boyish  just  now. 
All  his  monkeyish  tricks  shall  be  brought  to  a 
close, 

For  when  once  he's  promoted  he'll  find 
That  he'll  need  all  his  thoughts  for  protection  of 

those 
Who  are  riding  in  coaches  behind. 


AN   EPISTLE  TO  A  FRIEND. 

Dear  Friend  :  The  time  is  opportune, 
This  evening  in  delightful  June, 
To  spend  a  pleasant  hour  with  you, 
Whom  I  admire  in  friendship  true. 
The  Moon  is  floating  like  a  queen  ; 
In  azure  skies  she  moves  serene  ; 
All  nature  is  in  silent  mood, 
No  sound  upon  my  ears  intrude. 
I  upward  turn  my  eager  eyes 
To  penetrate  the  silent  skies ; 
But,  Jim,  Alas  !  my  sluggish  brain 
Can't  comprehend  the  starry  train 
That  move  along  throug'h  upper  air, 
Nor  see  the  power  that  keeps  them  there. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  279 

But  this  I  know  :  agnostics  may 
Proclaim  their  creed  till  dooms  dread  day, 
And  yet,  in  spite  of  all  they  say, 
There  is  a  being"  who  can  sway 
This  universe,  and  who  can  trace 
The  track  of  all  that  move  in  space, 
Can  guide  them  and  direct  them  still, 
To  move  according  to  His  will. 
What  puny  things  we  mortals  be, 
Mere  insects  tossed  upon  life's  sea, 
And  yet,  we  often  times  incline 
To  doubt  there  is  a  power  divine. 
Sure  all  created  things  we  view 
Proclaim  a  great  Creator  too. 
I'm  of  your  faith  and  can  agree 
Convinced  by  sights  I  daily  see. 
Opposed  to  each  contracted  creed, 
Where  conscience  never  can  be  freed 
From  narrow  bounds,  from  bigots'  sneers, 
From  hypocritic  scoffs  and  jeers. 
Your  faith  is  mine,  'tis  grand  and  broad, 
"Through  nature  up  to  nature's  God" 
We  worship,  with  the  silent  heart, 
And  eyes  which  see  our  God  impart 
His  mercies  here  to  all  mankind, 
With  our  full  strength  of  heart  and  mind. 
A  few  more  years  at  best  will  tell 


280  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  whereabouts  of  Heaven  and  Hell ; 
If  all  we  heard  since  glorious  youth 
From  preachers'  lips  are  words  of  truth, 
Or  simply  planned  to  make  us  feel 
The  thrust  of  wiley  churchmens'  steel. 
I  think  the  last,  and  Jim,  I  know, 
Like  me  you  scoff  eternal  woe. 
My  eyes  are  loaded  down  with  sleep, 
I'll  into  bed  this  instant  creep, 
I'll  sermonize  no  more  to-night, 
But  mail  you  this  at  morning's  light. 


DEDICATION   LINES. 

READ  AT  ROCHESTER,  N.  Y.,  BEFORE  THE  MEMBERS  OF  DIVISION 
18,  B.  OF  L.  E. 

To  dedicate  this  splendid  hall 

To  friendship,  and  each  mystic  rite, 
Is  why  we've  gathered,  one  and  all, 

Who  are  assembled  here  to-night. 
The  brave  and  fair  are  in  accord, 

With  smiles  and  cheers  to  speed  you  on, 
And  'round  your  sumptuous  festive  board 

You  wear  the  laurels  you  have  won. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  281 

When  man  shall  toil  for  fellow  man 

To  aid  him  in  his  hour  of  need, 
He  fills  the  great  Jehovah's  plan, 

And  proves  a  brother  true,  indeed  ; 
'Tis  such  you've  proved  who  in  this  hall 

Are  circled  round  in  modest  mien, 
And  we  are  honored  by  the  call 

To  join  the  members  of  Eighteen. 

At  this  baptismal  font  we  see 

Paternal  sponsors  standing  round, 
Who  always  will  our  guardians  be 

While  justice  in  our  laws  abound; 
They're  honored  men,  your  city's  pride, 

Whom  you  have  made  by  vote  and  voice, 
I  see  them  here  on  every  side, 

Distinguished  as  the  people's  choice. 

From  Manitoba  to  Peru, 

From  San  Francisco  o'er  to  Maine, 
We're  sure  to  find  our  brothers  true 

To  duty's  call  on  every  train  ; 
And  friends  spring  up  to  help  us  on — 

They've  done  it  oft  and  will  again — 
Because  our  Order  rests  upon 

Approval  of  our  fellow-men. 


282  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And,  brothers,  here's  our  worthy  Chief, 

Who  truly  fills  Jehovah's  plan, 
In  every  sense,  'tis  my  belief, 

That  Arthur  is  an  honest  man. 
For  ten  long1  years  his  counsels  wise 

Have  led  us  safely  on  our  way, 
Until  our  strength  and  growth  surprise 

Our  best  and  dearest  friends  to-day. 

Well  done,  Eighteen  !  tho'  but  a  part 

And  parcel  of  the  mighty  whole, 
Your  acts  shall  thrill  each  brother's  heart, 

Where'er  he  be  between  each  pole. 
The  widows'  and  the  orphans'  prayers 

Ascend  like  incense  to  the  skies, 
To  guard  and  keep  you  from  the  snares 

Of  envious  men's  detracting  lies. 

No  dynamiters  here  are  we, 

Nor  enemies  to  social  laws ; 
Our  Brotherhood  shall  foremost  be 

In  every  good  and  worthy  cause. 
We'll  upward  build,  no  shameful  brawl 

Shall  ever  mar  our  path  of  right, 
As  proof,  behold  this  splendid  hall 

We're  dedicating  here  to-night ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  283 

IT  IS  BETTER  TO  SING. 

It  is  better  to  sing-  of  g-ood  frolic  and  fun, 

And  to  whistle  all  care  to  the  wind,  boys. 
Than  to  sit  and  repine  and  all  merriment  shun, 

With  a  brake  set  on  heart  and  on  mind,  boys. 
To  the  devil  we'll  fling-  ev'ry  pulse  throb  of  pain 

That  keeps  beating  confined  in  our  breasts,  boy  s . 
YeSjWe'll  burst  every  link  of  the  sorrowful  chain, 

Which  we  nurture  right  under  our  vests,  boys. 

'Tother  evening4 young-  Flora  came  tripping- along4, 

With  her  tresses  afloat  in  the  breeze,  boys. 
Sure  she  captured  my  heart  with  her  musical 
song, 

And  she  made  me  soon  feel  at  my  ease,  boys. 
Oh  !  I  guzed  in  her  eyes  lit  with  honor  and  love, 

And  I  felt  as  courageous  as  Mars,  boys. 
Although  I'm  as  gentle  and  kind  as  a  dove, 

For  her  sake  I  could  march  to  the  wars,  boys. 

I  was  sad  ere  we  met,  but  her  beautiful  hand, 

Which  she  placed  in  my  big4,  brawny  fist,  boys, 
Made  me  joyous  as  any  one  found  in  the  land ; 

For  its  thrill  I  could  never  resist,  boys. 
•So  you  see  there  is  no  use  in  nurturing  grief, 

And  hugging-  it  close  to  your  heart,  boys. 
Better  win  some  young  Flora  to  give  you  relief, 

Then  the  blues  will  all  quickly  depart,  boys. 


284  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

TO  THE  OFFICERS  AND   MEMBERS 

OF  THE  LADIES'  SOCIETY  OF  THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  LOCOMOTIVE 
ENGINEERS,  BURLINGTON,  IA. 

While  we  live  we'll  hear  of  wonders, 

I  suppose  they'll  never  cease, 
For  with  each  succeeding  season 

They  all  rapidly  increase  ; 
But  the  latest  startling-  wonder 

That  salutes  our  listening-  ears, 
Is  a  pioneer  Division 

Of  our  lady  engineers ! 

I'm  delighted,  full  of  rapture, 

Yes,  and  rigmarolling  fire, 
For  I  see  there's  no  profession 

To  wrhich  woman  can't  aspire. 
Now  we  find  her  at  the  throttle, 

Let  us  hail  her  with  a  cheer ; 
Let  each  brother  send  a  greeting 

To  each  sister  engineer. 

I  extend  you  all  a  welcome, 
You  shall  find  I  have  the  grip, 

And  the  mystic  salutation, 
Which  we  plant  upon  the  lip. 

It  was  rather  dry  embracing 
Through  the  long  years  past  and  gone, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  285 

But  henceforth  we'll  use  the  lip  signs 
With  our  sisters  every  one. 

'Tis  surprising-  to  me,  ladies, 

How  you  ever  clasped  the  throat 
Of  our  roystering,  rambunctious, 

Rampant,  rollicking  old  goat. 
I  confess  the  night  I  rode  him, 

He  was  in  a  roaring  rage, 
But  perhaps  his  pranks  are  cooling, 

Like  all  human  goats,  with  age. 

Well,  you're  in,  and  you  are  welcome 

As  the  flowers  that  bloom  in  May, 
And  I  know  'tis  woman's  nature 

Amongst  social  lads  to  stay ; 
We  will  treat  you  as  our  equals, 

For  you've  nobly  paid  your  fees, 
And  we'll  let  you  take  our  places 

When  o'erworked  and  needing  ease. 

Heretofore  men  did  the  running, 
Now  the  husband  trips  may  change 

With  the  wife,  who'll  take  his  engine, 
On  a  plan  they'll  both  arrange  ; 

He'll  stay  home  and  mind  the  babies, 
'Twill  be  penance  for  his  sins, 


286  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

If,  like  me,  he's  blessed  with  squallers, 
In  the  shape  of  healthy  twins. 

He  can  pack,  key  up,  set  wedges, 

And  do  all  the  oiling-  round, 
Ere  the  engine  leaves  the  station, 

So  she'll  take  her  safe  and  sound  ; 
.  Then,  as  off  you're  booming,  ladies, 

Watch  each  house  when  passing  by, 
And  perhaps  some  other  darling 

Of  your  husband  you  may  spy. 

She  will  think  he's  on  the  engine, 

And  may  gently  wave  her  hand 
To  salute  him  when  he's  passing, 

With  a  sign  he'll  understand  ; 
If  your  nature  should  be  jealous, 

And  you  meditate  a  crime, 
Should  you  stop  the  train  to  kill  her, 

You'll  be  pulled  for  losing  time. 

And  when  back  you  come  with  vengeance 
Bubbling  up  at  every  breath, 

Give  the  lad  you  left  dry-nursing, 
Time  to  pray  before  his  death. 

You  are  sure  to  think  he's  guilty, 
And  will  have  your  own  sweet  way, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  287 

Yet,  before  the  lamb  is  slaughtered, 
Let  him  have  a  chance  to  pray. 

Keep  your  temper  with  your  fireman, 

For  you'll  often  need  his  aid, 
But  avoid  the  guy  conductor, 

Be  you  widow,  wife  or  maid ; 
If  you  don't  you'll  live  to  rue  it 

With  a  sad,  remorseful  mind, 
For  I  know  some  sly  old  devils 

'Mongst  the  tinselled  caps  behind. 

I  will  be  your  guardian  angel, 

And  protect  you  from  the  snares 
Of  those  oily-tongued  deceivers, 

With  their  sweet,  seductive  airs ; 
I'll  applaud  your  undertakings 

With  a  hearty  voice  and  pen, 
And,  before  the  year  is  over, 

You  may  hear  from  me  again. 


THE  RIVER  ST.   LAWRENCE. 

Oh  !  you  grandly  rolling  river 

That  majestically  rides 
On  your  pathway  to  the  ocean, 

Bearing  on  the  countless  tides, 


288  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

From  the  mighty  lakes  above  you, 
With  an  undiminished  force, 

Since  old  Time  first  sent  you  bounding 
On  your  never-ceasing  course. 

You  have  filled  my  heart  with  rapture, 

As  I  gazed  in  speechless  awe 
At  the  noble  works  of  Nature, 

Which  within  your  bounds  I  saw 
At  the  loveliness  profusely 

Scattered  over  many  miles  ; 
Where  the  Master-hand  triumphant 

Decked  the  famous  Thousand  Isles. 

Here  is  foliage  surpassing 

All  the  tints  and  rainbow  dies, 
Which  the  sun  in  mid-day  splendor, 

Grandly  paints  from  azure  skies  ; 
We  find  shade  and  sunshine  blended, 

Em'rald  green  and  burnished  gold ; 
Making  up  a  vision  splendid 

And  surprising  to  behold  ! 

How  transparent  are  your  waters  ! 

There  the  angler's  vision  tells 
Where  the  finny  tribe  are  sporting 

In  the  rocky  rifts  and  dells ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  289 

There  with  hook  and  line  delighted, 

In  his  birchen-tree  canoe, 
He  may  sport  amid  the  treasures 

Which  are  lying-  'neath  his  view. 

Hear  the  strains  of  music  rising- ! 

See  the  stately  steamers  ride, 
With  their  happy  group  of  tourists 

On  its  clear,  translucent  tide ; 
Mark  the  yachts  whose  safe  manoeuvres 

Keep  them  clear  of  countless  oars, 
Which  are  sending-  liquid  di'monds 

Rippling-  onward  to  your  shores  ! 

When  the  queen  of  night  is  reigning-, 

With  her  starry  train  above, 
It  is  then  all  hearts  commingle 

In  the  bonds  of  fervent  love  ; 
From  your  depths  they  are  reflected, 

Just  as  peaceful  as  the  smiles, 
Which  the  angels  lavish  fondly, 

To  salute  thee,  Thousand  Isles. 

Oh  !  Great  Being,  omnipresent, 

Teach  our  hearts  to  render  praise 
For  the  blessings  which  You  send  us, 

Lead  us  all  to  know  Your  ways ; 

19 


290  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  when  life  on  earth  is  over, 
Let  our  souls  to  You  arise, 

From  such  scenes  as  here  I'm  viewing-, 
To  our  home  beyond  the  skies. 


MOONLIGHT  FANCIES. 

Pass  your  pipe  along-,  partner,  and  here 

You  and  I'll  have  a  sociable  smoke, 
For  the  evening-  is  balmy  and  clear. 

And  fair  Luna's  forgotten  her  cloak  ; 
Throug-h  the  deep  azure  hue  of  the  sky, 

She  triumphantly  rides  like  a  queen, 
And  she  looks  with  a  ravishing-  eye 

Fondly  down  on  all  nature  serene. 

Such  a  night  how  I  love  to  recall 

The  dear  scenes  of  our  youth  up  to  view, 
When  we  fancied  life's  highway  was  all 

A  delightful  parade  for  us  two  ; 
Ere  the  trials  and  battles  begun 

To  be  fougiit  for  the  bread  which  we  eat ; 
When  each  yearned  to  march  as  a  man, 

With  the  crowds  who  were  throng-ing  the 
street, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  291 

Then,  how  slowly  the  weeks  seemed  to  roll, 

And  old  Time  seemed  a  laggard,  whose  feet 
Would  ne'er  lead  to  the  coveted  goal 

Where  fruition  of  dreams  we  would  meet ; 
Now,  we're  awed  at  the  progress  he  made 

O'er  the  years  like  a  meteor's  flight, 
And  oh,  friend  !  how  I  sigh  for  the  glade 

Where  we  sported  in  boyhood,  to-night. 

What  a  fanciful  picture  we  drew 

Of  a  future  remote  from  us  then, 
Of  the  paths  which  we  both  should  pursue, 

When  we'd  march  to  the  music  of  men. 
We  were  sure  of  success  on  the  road, 

And  we  dreamt  not  of  hopeless  defeat ; 
All  unheeding  we  joyfully  strode, 

Ever  future  ward  fortune  to  meet. 

When  'twas  wealth  we  aspired  to — sit  down, 

And  don't  jump  from  my  side  in  disdain — 
For  there  is  not  a  pauper  in  town 

Has  more  right  than  myself  to  complain  ; 
When  'twas  love — see  that  mouthful  of  smoke ; 

Note  how  quickly  it  faded  in  air ; 
'Twas  an  emblem  of  Cupid's  sweet  yoke, 

When  we  browsed  on  the  lips  of  the  fair. 


292  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

How  we  thirsted  for  fame,  and  we  prayed 

For  the  time  when  we'd  march  with  a  gun 
Did  you  find  it  the  day  that  you  made 

Such  a  race  for  the  rear  at  Bull  Run  ? 
Or  the  day  you  ran  old  Ninetj'-Four 

Through  the  flock  of  fat  gobblers  and  saw 
The  old  farmer,  who  furiously  swore 

That  he'd  shoot  you  according1  to  law. 

Well,  we've  all  got  a  mission  to  fill ; 

There's  no  changing  Jehovah's  decree; 
And  the  terminal  station  is  still 

In  the  distance  for  you,  friend,  and  me. 
Let  us  faithfully  run  thro  ugh  the  strife, 

Till  the  trip  of  our  lives  shall  be  o'er, 
Till  old  Death  shuts  the  throttle  of  life, 

And  sets  brakes  on  eternity's  shore. 


THE  EXILE'S  RETURN. 

The  wharf -lines  off  are  quickly  cast, 

And  we  are  outward  bound  at  last. 

The  skies  are  fair,  the  tide  is  free  ; 

Our  course  is  to  the  open  sea. 

Our  voyage,  happily  begun, 

Points  eastward  to  the  rising  sun ; 

Where  boyhood's  scenes,  long  years  gone  by, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  293 

Attract  us,  and  we  backward  hie, 
To  have  a  brief  sojourn. 
And  now,  to  each  remember'd  place, 
Fond  mem'ry  dearly  loved  to  trace  ; 
Where  flowers  bloom  the  year  around, 
And  health  in  ev'ry  breeze  is  found, 
The  exile's  steps  return. 

Our  noble  steamship  cleaves  her  way 
With  steady  speed  through  ocean's  spray  ; 
Each  revolution  of  her  wheel 
Vibrates  along1  her  noble  keel, 
Which  stood  the  crash  of  mountain  seas, 
And  many  a  chilly  wintry  breeze. 
She  bears  us  on,  our  hopes  and  fears, 
The  dreams  of  many  toilsome  years 

Will  soon  be  realized. 
Old  Erin's  hills  once  more  to  view, 
Arising  from  the  waters  blue  ; 
Again  to  step  upon  her  soil, 
And  for  a  season  flee  from  toil, 

Are  wishes  dearly  prized. 

Perhaps  some  callous  heart  may  sneer 
At  all  those  tender  feelings  dear, 
Which  cluster  'round  our  early  days 
And  merit  more  than  passing  praise ; 


294  SHANDY 


Which  rise  with  every  heaving-  breath, 
To  bear  fruition  ere  our  death  ; 
A  steady  wish,  once  more  to  view 
Those  bye-gone  scenes  of  roseate  hue, 

Which  fancy  can  beguile. 
Where  first  a  father's  love  we  felt, 
Or  at  a  mother's  knee  we  knelt, 
And  learned  to  lisp  the  simple  prayer, 
For  God  to  guard  our  lives  from  care, 

In  Erin's  sainted  isle. 

The  man  whose  noble  heart  can  feel 
The  glorious  sports  of  boyhood  steal 
In  through  the  cares  of  riper  years, 
Until  his  eyes  o'erflow  with  tears, 
Can  judge  the  joy  of  him  whose  hopes 
Are  cluster'd  'round  the  sunny  slopes 
Of  cloudless  youth,  life's  morning  prime, 
When  backward  to  his  native  clime 

He  goes  in  middle  age  ; 
Expecting  everything  the  same, 
As  when  he  felt  youth's  joyous  flame, 
Amid  companions,  blithe  as  e'er, 
Defied  the  touch  of  cruel  care 

To  mar  life's  opening  page. 

The  liberated  clouds  of  steam 
Above  the  funnels  brightly  gleam  ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  295 

The  engines  groan  with  toiling  stroke, 

And  backward  trail  dense  banks  of  smoke. 

The  log-book  tells  of  rapid  strides 

We  daily  make  o'er  ocean  tides  ; 

It  tells  we  near  the  wished  for  shore, 

From  which  we  sailed  long  years  before, 

Across  the  Western  main. 
And  now,  like  pilgrims  to  a  shrine, 
We  swiftly  move  through  trackless  brine. 
Before  another  sun  shall  fade, 
A  landing  may  be  safely  made 

On  Erin's  shores  again. 

Behold  beneath  the  morning  skies 
A  glorious  scene  of  grandeur  rise  ! 
Oh,  joyous  sight !  Oft  wished  for  day, 
For  which  the  exile's  heart  did  pray ; 
Through  thirty  hoary  winters  long, 
We  sighed  for  you  in  prayers  and  song, 
And  now  our  eyes  are  bless 'd  at  last, 
Dear  Erin  we  are  nearing  fast 

Before  a  pleasant  gale  ! 
Our  decks  present  a  moving  mass 
Of  anxious  people  as  we  pass 
By  chalky  cliffs  and  em'rald  hills, 
A  rapture  through  each  bosom  thrills, 

When  nearing  old  Kinsale ! 


296  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Upon  our  beam  we  sight  Trarnore, 
And  soon  our  voyage  shall  be  o'er. 
Our  feet  shall  touch  the  sainted  sod, 
Where  humble  hearts  salute  their  God, 
At  every  rising  of  the  sun, 
And  when  his  course  is  westward  run. 
Dunleary  !  after  many  years, 
Again  we  shed  pathetic  tears, 

Unchecked  they  slowly  fall ; 
For  moments  such  as  these  we  sighed, 
When  moving  'mid  the  ceaseless  tide 
Of  busy  men,  who  throng  the  plains, 
Where  priceless  Freedom  truly  reig'ns, 

Impartially  for  all. 

But  where  are  those  we  hoped  to  find  ? 
The  comrades  dear  we  left  behind  ? 
The  loved  companions  of  our  youth, 
Whose  hearts  were  filled  with  hope  and  truth ; 
Who  played  with  us  on  primrose  banks, 
Long,  long  ago,  in  boyish  pranks, 
When  fleet  of  foot,  and  light  of  heart, 
We  studied  neither  grace  nor  art 

Upon  the  village  green ; 
But  true  to  nature,  whiled  away 
The  hours,  until  the  sun's  last  ray 
Had  faded  o'er  the  flow'ry  plain, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  297 

Or  sunk  beneath  the  heaving  main  ? 

The3r're  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

The  very  houses,  once  so  tall, 

Appear  diminutive,  and  all 

The  things  we  conned  in  mem'ry  o'er, 

Are  lost  to  view  for  evermore. 

The  daisies  seem  to  be  less  fair 

Than  when  we  wove  bright  garlands  there 

Long  years  ago,  the  birds,  whose  song 

Did  through  our  yearning  fancies  throng, 

Discordantly  we  hear. 
All  things  have  changed.     The  churchyard 

where 

A  mound  was  scatter'd  here  and  there, 
Is  now  a  mass  of  simple  stones, 
Where  lie  entombed  the  mold'ring  bones 

Of  those  we  loved  so  dear. 

Oh,  hopes  we  cherished,  daily  prized, 
Expecting  they'd  be  realized. 
Alas  !  our  sighs  and  tears  were  vain 
When  hugging  each  delusive  train, 
Which  longing  fancies  fondly  wove 
Around  the  scenes  of  early  love. 
The  gulf  dividing  youth  and  age, 
O'er  which  a  weary  pilgrimage 

Reluctantly  was  made, 


298  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Can  ne'er  be  crossed,  how  e'er  we  crave 
To  bridge  it  o'er  this  side  the  grave ; 
Its  depths  contain  the  buried  joys, 
Entombed  since  we  were  careless  boys, 
And  froliced  in  the  glade. 

The  sunny  slopes,  and  winding-  streams, 
Oft  visited  in  countless  dreams  ; 
The  wooded  hills,  the  teeming  plain, 
O'er  which  we  viewed  the  waving  grain ; 
The  mossy  dells,  the  leafy  grove, 
Where  we  in  early  years  did  rove  ; 
The  river  clear,  which  swept  along, 
The  birds  we  heard  in  ceaseless  song, 

Have  all  so  sadly  changed ! 
They  never  more  will  look  the  same 
As  when  we  felt  the  glowing  flame 
Of  happy  childhood,  long  ago, 
Because  our  eyes  are  dimm'd  with  \voe, 

And  hearts  with  care  estranged. 


TRIALS  AND  TRIBULATIONS. 
An  attack  of  malaria  which  lasted  a  week, 
Had  a  wholesome  effect,  as  I  now  am  quite  weak. 

And  altho'  convalescing,  yet  sad  ; 
Oh  !  I  thought :  is  the  battle  of  life  with  its  ills 


SHANDY  MAGtTIRE.  299 

To  be  finished  at  last  amid  fevers  and  chills, 
Ere  the  spirit  ascends  to  its  God  ? 

When  the  pulse  of  the  heart's  running1  rapidly 

high, 
And  a  lack-lustre  glance  indicates  in  the  eye, 

That  'tis  time  to  prepare  for  the  worst, 
What  a  long  chain  of  ills  will  parade  in  full  view, 
Every  one  looming  up  with  a  sulphurous  hue, 

Which  our  own  selfish  bosoms  have  nursed. 

As  we  gaze  with  the  unclouded  eye  of  the  mind, 
Over  scenes  which  we  thought  were  forgotten 

behind, 

How  we  shiver  and  shake  with  dismay. 
In  our  health  'twas  our  boast  the  good  times  we 

enjoyed, 

But  in  illness  we  find  the  illusion  destroyed, 
And  for  pardon  most  humbly  we  pray. 

* 
When  old  Death  hovers  nigh  how  the  conscience 

can  sting, 
As  the  spirit  prepares  far  away  to  take  wing 

From  the  casket  which  bore  it  in  life. 
But  the  Lord  only  knows  on  what  course  it  will 

fly, 

Whether  up  in  a  joyous  career  to  the  sky, 
Or  go  down  to  contention  and  strife. 


300  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

How  my  thoughts  travel'd  back  with  a  yearning 

*  delight 
To  the  springtime  of  life  when  the  future  looked 

bright, 

As  I  gazed  down  the  vista  of  years ; 
Then  I  never  once  dreamed  as  the  future  did  ope 
To  my  view  from  the  top  of  youth's  mountain  of 

hope, 
That  the  distance  held  valleys  of  tears. 

In  such  rapid  succession  the  seasons  sped  on, 
Very  soon  the  bright  visions  of  youth  were  all 
gone, 

Nevermore  to  enliven  the  scene. 
I  have  found,  as  so  many  discovered  before, 
That  the  thorns  lie  thick  on  each  path  we  explore, 

On  the  mountains,  and  valleys  between. 

How  we  murmur  about  our  disconsolate  lot, 
In  a  rancorous  mood,  just  because  we  have  not 

An  abundance  of  this  world's  wealth ; 
If  we'd  pause,  and  reflect,  in  our  hearts  we  would 

prize, 
As  the  best  of  all  gifts  sent  us  down  from  the 

skies, 
The  enjoyment  of  bodily  health. 

Ask  a  man  on  his  bed  when  he's  tortured  with 
pain, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  301 

If  his  thoughts  are  distracted  by  miserly  g-ain. 

If  his  answer  be  "yes,"  then  we  know 
That  he'll  order  a  pocket  put  into  his  shroud, 
So  he'll  carry  his  hoarding's  away  from  earth's 
crowd, 

To  the  place  he's  expecting-  to  g-o. 

What  a  fool!     All  the  wealth  that  was  ever 

concealed 
In  the  bowels  of  earth  to  his  soul  wouldn't  yield 

Half  a  second  of  peaceful  repose ; 
Little  use  will  he  have  for  his  ducats  when  Death 
Lifts  the  scales  to  blow  oil'  all  his  miserly  breath, 
Ere  the  clay  rattles  down  on  his  nose. 

There  are  many  who'll  laugii  at  the  tone  of  my 
song-, 

Who  imagine  their  lives  are  devoid  of  all  wrong-, 
And  their  acts  can  pass  muster  on  higii ; 

Let  them  once  g-et  a  chill  which  shall  shake  them 
all  o'er, 

From  the  roots  of  their  hair  to  their  heart's  in 
most  core, 

And  then  truly  confess  what  they'll  spy. 

It  will  make  us  content  with  what  fortune  may 
send, 

And  when  life's  checkered  voyage  approaches  its 
end, 


302  SHANDY   MAGUIKE. 

If  we're  poor  we  can  think  ourselves  blest ; 
We  are  sure  to  be  placed  just  as  deep  in  the  clay 
As  the  men  who  bequeath  all  their  millions  away , 

And  can  go  more  contented  to  rest. 


AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  AN  INFANT. 

The  mother's  heart  is  sear'd  with  woe, 

Her  dearest  hope  is  fled  ; 
The  tears  in  torrents  downward  flow, 

Her  first-born  boy  is  dead. 
The  friends  who  gather  'round  the  sod 

Would  fain  assuage  her  grief  ; 
But  she  alone  must  look  to  God, 

To  give  her  heart  relief. 

A  few  short  moons  he  nestled  near 

Her  kind,  maternal  breast, 
Where, twined  around  her  heart-strings  dear, 

She'd  lull  him  off  to  rest ; 
She'd  closely  scan  his  infant  face, 

As  in  her  arms  he'd  lie, 
And  ev'ry  want  she'd  quickly  trace. 

Beneath  her  watchful  eye. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  303 

Like  flowers,  chilled  with  frosty  air, 

He  wilted  in  his  bloom ; 
And  now,  behold  him  lifeless  there, 

Above  his  childish  tomb. 
The  mother's  tears  are  rolling-  free 

Upon  the  casket  lid, 
But  in  a  moment  more  he'll  be 

From  human  eyesigiit  hid. 

Ah !  yes,  strew  flowers  on  his  grave, 

All  you  with  senses  calm  ; 
But  for  the  mother's  grief  I  crave 

Some  sympathizing1  balm ; 
A  tempest  rages  in  her  breast, 

Her  hopes  are  'neath  the  sod  ; 
She'll  never  more  find  tearless  rest, 

Till  with  her  babe  and  God. 


TO  THE  MEMBERS  OF  DIVISION  NO.  136. 

A  REPLY  TO  COMPLIMENTARY  RESOLUTIONS  SENT  TO  THE  AUTHOR,  ON 
RECEIPT  OF  HIS  PHOTO. 

I  have  always  had  faith  that  the  future  would 

bring- 

A  fewgif  tsfrom  Miss  Fortune  to  help  me  along, 
How  the  jade  at  my  ear  did  delusively  sing 
Of  her  plans  for  my  welfare,  in  soul-stirring; 
song-, 


304  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

But,alas!  like  the  pay  master's  car  on  some  roads, 
When  I  thought  her  at  hand,  from  my  grasp 

she  would  slip. 

Yet,  she'd  feed  me  with  smiles,which  were  silver- 
gilt  goads, 
And  she'd  stuff  me  with  hopes  just  as  worthless 

as  scrip. 

She  is  coming  again  from  some  boys  in  the  west, 

And  she's  singing  a  song  most  delusively  sweet, 

Telling  how  they're  uniting  to  "feather  my  nest, ' ' 

For  a  trip  to  old  Erin  with  outfit  complete. 
Oh,  the  joy  of  my  heart  is  unbounded  to-night. 
'Tis  a  fact  and  not  "  blarney  "  I'm  giving  you 

now, 

For  there's  nothing  can  give  me  one-half  the  de 
light 
As  a  European  voyage,  salt  billows  to  plow. 

How  I  yearn  to  view  the  green  fields  of  my  birth  ! 

I  would  like  to  see  Padd}^,  as  found  in  his  home, 

Till  I'd  note  him,  tho'  shackled,  all  bubbling  with 

mirth, 
Which  he  never  forgets  in  the  climes  where 

he'll  roam ; 

Save  a  renegade  few,  whom  all  mankind  despise, 
Who'd  deny  their  old  mother,  and  spit  in  her 

face. 

How  they  struggle  their  accent  and  names  to  dis 
guise, 


SHANDY   MAGUIBE.  305 

Thoug-h  the  map  of  the  island  is  stamped  on  each 
face! 

We  have  Charlies  from  Kerry,  and  Williams 

from  Clare, 
We  have  Delias  from  Carlow,  and  Jules  from 

Athlone, 
We  have  Raymonds  from  Wicklow  and  Hanks 

from  Kildare, 

And  we've  red-headed  Celias  just  out  from  Ty 
rone! 

By  the  Gods  !  I  aver  they  were  Biddies  and  Pats, 
In  the  land  where  potatoes  must  pass  for  a 

feast, 
Where  their  honest  old  fathers  first  christened 

the  brats, 

With  the  aid  of  some  patriot,  God  fearing-- 
priest. 

Oh,  I  love  the  old  land,  tho'  in  shackles  she  pines, 
And  I  dream  of  the  valleys,  each  river  and  rill, 
To  he  found  dotted  over  the  verdant  confines 
Of  her  borders,  where  freedom  is  sought  after 

still. 
May  each  reneg-ade  wretch  with  a  sand-papered 

tongue, 
When  it  wag-s  to  deny  her  with  scotf  and  with 

sneer, 

Be  cut  off  from  communion  all  mankind  among", 
Till  some  sheriff  persuasively  tickles  his  ear. 

20 


306  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

I  will  bring-  every  member  of  One-Thirty-Six 

A  decoction  of  blarney  out  fresh  from  the  stone ; 
But,my  boys, if  I  judge  by  your  roy storing1  tricks, 

You  have  got  a  sufficiency  now  of  your  own. 
I  see  Cavner  is  out  with  a  Quixotic  plan 

For  the  good  of  the  boys,  which  I  very  much  fear 
Will  not  work,  till  we 're  sure  of  perfection  in  man, 

Or  until  the  much-looked  for  Millenium's  here. 

The  old  ship  of  the  Brotherhood 'sboomingalong, 

With  her  bunting  all  set  to  prosperity's  gales  ; 
Don't  you  think,  Brother  Cavner,  the  act  would 
be  wrong*, 

Should  we  alter  her  course  or  the  set  of  her  sails? 
There's  no  sign  of  a  tempest  on  weather  or  lee, 

Not  a  pirate's  on  board  that  we  know  of  to-day; 
So  my  boy,  let  her  float  guyly  over  the  sea, 

As  she's  steering  at  present  in  glorious  array. 

To  you  all  my  regards.    Keep  my  face  to  the  wall 
When  the  wives  of  some  Mormon  are  visiting 

'round. 

'Tis  a  fashion  of  ladies  to  visit  each  hall 
Where  a  handsome  collection  of  boys  may  be 

found. 

There's  but  one  wife  allowed  to  each  man  in  New 
York, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  30? 

And  the  man  who  wants  more  must  be  proof 

against  fire ; 

As  for  me,  I  must  keep  pretty  steady  at  work 
For  the  lady  who's  wedded  to  Shandy  Maguire. 


A  WEDDING   PRESENT  TO  J.  T.   K. 

I  suppose  it  is  my  duty 

A  few  compliments  to  pay 
To  the  bride  and  groom  together 

On  their  glorious  wedding  day  ; 
I  will  do  it,  but  I'm  doubtful 

If  this  rhyme  will  suit  your  ear, 
Yet,  we  ofttimes  have  to  listen 

To  some  truths  we  hate  to  hear. 

A  few  months  ago  I  dragged  you 

From  the  tomb  of  one  1  knew 
To  be  upright,  true  and  faithful, 

During  twenty  years,  to  you. 
And  I  pitied  you  sincerely, 

For  1  truly  thought  you'd  rave 
Everlastingly  about  her, 

Till  you'd  join  her  in  the  grave. 


308  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

You  put  crape  upon  your  engine, 

And  you  wore  it  on  your  hat, 
And  you  looked  like  Misery's  mother, 

As  within  the  cab  you  sat ; 
Then,  I  thought  you  grieved  sincerely, 

Now,  I  know  it  was  a  plan 
You  invented,  so  the  ladies 

Would  know  where  to  seek  a  man. 


And  one  found  you,  Jerry,  darling. 

She's  a  simple  little  fool, 
That's  but  lately  out  of  short-clothes, 

And  had  better  be  at  school, 
Than  to  wed  a  man  whose  whiskers 

Are  kept  dyed  from  chin  to  ears, 
To  conceal  the  grizzled  tell-tales 

Of  his  forty-seven  years. 

"Sure  an  old  fool  is  the  worst  fool," 

As  my  mother  often  said, 
And  I've  always  known  her,  Jerry, 

To  have  wisdom  in  her  head. 
Folks  will  take  her  for  your  daughter 

Promenading  at  your  side, 
Till  some  wag  will  kindly  tell  them  : 

"It  is  Jerry's  bouncing  bride." 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  309 

I  have  been  surmising-  lately 

There  was  "something-  in  the  air," 
With  your  laundried  linen  daily, 

And  your  oily  head  of  hair, 
As  you'd  go  to  pull  a  coal  train, 

Scarcely  noting  passers  by, 
With  your  nose  at  such  an  angle, 

That  it  pointed  to  the  sky. 

You  would  sport  a  cane  on  Sunday, 

As  you  went  to  see  your  love, 
And  each  greasy  hand  was  hidden 

In  an  over-crowded  glove ; 
And  you  tried  to  look  as  boyish 

And  as  youthful  as  your  son ; 
But,  you  old,  deluded  driv'ler, 

We  were  laughing  at  the  fun. 

Man,  when  in  the  "roaring  forties" 

Going  down  the  grade  of  life, 
Has  a  soft  spot  in  his  noddle, 

When  he  wants  a  second  wife ; 
He  is  sure  to  seek  a  young  one, 

For  some  reason  of  his  own, 
And  he  needs  her  just  as  badly 

As  a  hungry  dog  a  stone. 


810  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

You  will  soon  need  porous  plasters 

Pasted  all  along  your  spine, 
And  you'll  take  a  nervous  palsy, 

And  3Tou'll  have  a  quick  decline, 
And  you'll  need  a  pair  of  crutches, 

And  a  doctor,  and  a  nurse, 
And  perhaps  your  bouncing-  beauty 

May  be  wanting  a  divorce. 

She'll  soon  tie  your  toes  together 

With  a  half  a  yard  of  tape, 
And  upon  your  nickle  door-knob, 

She  shall  hang  a  bunch  of  crape ; 
And  she'll  stand  beside  your  coffin 

Shedding  glad  tears  on  your  face, 
Thinking  on  what  youthful  lover 

She  shall  marry  in  your  place. 

My  dear,  married,  lady-readers, 

There's  a  moral  to  my  song, 
Which  you've  found  if  you  have  closely 

Scanned  its  truthful  lines  along ; 
You  have  all  got  "Jeremiahs" 

Who're  impatient  for  the  time 
When  old  Death  shall  send  you  booming 

Up  to  some  celestial  clime. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  311 

I  advise  you  most  sincerely 

To  be  careful  of  your  health, 
You  will  find  it  pay  you  better 

Than  accumulating1  wealth, 
For  some  second  wife  to  squander 

On  her  captivating-  charms, 
Once  your  husband  has  her  snoring 

In  his  old,  delighted  arms. 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

I  have  just  got  the  news  of  your  marriage, 

Indeed,  'twas  a  pleasing  surprise, 
Sent  from  one  who  would  always  disparage 

The  brilliancy  beaming  from  eyes 
Which  are  lit  by  the  loves  and  the  graces, 

Bewitchingly  dancing  in  joy ; 
And  could  laugh  at  all  maidenly  faces 

That  sought  to  ensnare  you,  my  boy. 

You've  been  caught  in  the  soft,  silken  netting, 
Which  Cupid  around  you  entwined  ; 

Yes,  and  all  your  past  sermons  forgetting, 
You  entered  the  bondage  resigned. 


312  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

I  suppose  you  took  leave  of  all  others 

You  lavished  affection  upon  ? 
For  in  marriag-e,  you  know,  like  our  mothers, 

We're  only  entitled  to  one. 

Now,  adieu  to  the  nights  which  we  sported 

Around  the  convivial  board  ; 
Where  a  few  social  fellows  resorted, 

With  minds  full  of  merriment  stored. 
Where  we  ling-ered  from  nig-ht  until  morning1, 

Carousing-  in  story  and  song  ; 
Till  old  Sol  would  peep  in  to  give  warning 

'Twas  time  to  be  moving-  along-. 

I  suppose  all  the  keepsakes,  and  tokens, 

And  trophies  of  love  you  possess, 
From  the  girls  which  you  said  were  heart-broken, 

You  returned  to  console  their  distress  ? 
If  you  havn't,  make  haste,  boy,  and  do  it, 

'Twill  make  your  path  smoother  through  life, 
Or  if  not,  time  will  come  when  you'll  rue  it, 

If  ever  they're  found  by  your  wife. 

When  we  meet  in  the  future,  demurely 
We'll  talk  like  two  deacons  in  prayer ; 

With  a  drawl  to  protect  us  securely 
Against  our  dear  wives'  critic  stare. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  313 

They  will  think  we  were  saints  ere  we  met  them, 
They'll  fancy  that  each  won  a  prize, 

And  imagine  us  anxious  to  get  them — 
But,  boy,  we'll  throw  dust  in  their  eyes. 

All  our  old,  glorious  evenings  are  over, 

We'll  simply  salute  and  pass  on ; 
We'll  no  longer  wade  knee-deep  in  clover, 

Our  nights  of  carousing  are  gone. 
We  will  sigh  when  we  think  of  the  chorus 

We  raised  from  a  union  of  throats  ; 
Hereafter,  dear  boy,  we've  before  us 

A  very  rich  crop  of  "  wild  oats." 

If  I  ever  meet  Fanny,  I'll  tell  her 

Her  charms  are  on  the  decline  ; 
And  I'll  ask  what  misfortune  befell  her 

Her  chances  on  you  to  resign ; 
And  if  Susie,  or  Nellie,  or  Mollie, 

Remember  your  light-spoken  vows, 
I  will  say  you  repent  of  your  folly, 

And  wish  you  had  each  for  a  spouse. 

Now,  I'll  do  a  friend's  share  in  consoling 

The  darlings  you  parted  in  grief  ; 
For,  like  you,  I've  a  knack  at  condoling 

With  maidens  to  give  them  relief  ; 


314  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Yet,  I  don't  think  they'll  die  broken-hearted, 
Because  you  are  married  and  gone  ; 

They  know  many  a  maid  you  deserted, 
Before  YOU  struck  colors  to  one. 


AWAY  WITH  YOUR  FLIMSY  ROMANCES. 

Away  with  your  flimsy  romances, 

All  you  who  sit  dreaming-  of  love  ; 
In  wedlock  you  take  many  chances, 

When  tied  to  your  conjugal  dove. 
The  one  to  please  me  must  he  mistress 

Of  wholesome,  culinary  art, 
And  move  through  my  sensitive  stomach 

Right  into  the  joys  of  my  heart. 

Bright  eyes  may  be  pleasant  to  gaze  on. 

And  lips  may  be  lusciously  sweet, 
They'll  please  you,  perhaps,  for  a  season, 

Until  you  need  something  to  eat ; 
But  when  all  your  vitals  are  gnawing 

For  dishes  more  solid  than  air, 
The  smiles  of  the  darling  won't  stifle 

The  stings  of  your  appetite  there. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  315 

If  she  can  preside  in  the  kitchen, 

With  other  accomplishments  too, 
Why,  then-,  you  may  call  her  an  angel, 

Whom  Heaven  conferred  upon  you. 
I'd  never  complain  of  her  features, 

Tho'  coarse  every  lineament  be, 
But  call  her  the  fairest  of  creatures, 

Who  feeds  me  on  good  things  at  tea. 

Or  when  from  the  bed  in  the  morning 

To  breakfast  I'm  told  to  arise, 
To  see  her  the  table  adorning, 

Can  give  me  most  joyful  surprise. 
The  smell  of  rich  coffee's  enticing, 

The  toil  of  the  day  it  beguiles, 
I  start  to  my  duty  rejoicing, 

And  kiss  her  good-bye  full  of  smiles. 

"All  beauty's  skin  deep"  says  the  proverb, 

And  liable  quickly  to  fade, 
Remember  it  well  when  your  choosing 

Some  artful,  young,  exquisite  maid ; 
Be  sure  she  can  cook  a  good  dinner, 

For,  mind  you,  when  beauty  is  gone, 
'Twill  save  you  being  damned  as  a  sinner, 

To  know  such  a  prize  you  have  won. 


316  SHANDY  MAGtIIRE. 

TO  A  REPORTER. 
WHO  COMPLIMENTED  A  CONDUCTOR. 
All !  say  you  so,  Mr.  Reporter  ? 

Indeed,  it  is  wonderful  news  ! 
And  really,  I  think  'tis  a  subject 

Quite  worthy  an  hour  with  my  Muse  ; 
For  I've  known  Tom  for  years,and  I've  pulled  him 

A  many  a  mile,  off  and  on, 
And  I  like  to  partake  of  the  pleasure 

Men  feel  when  their  work  is  well  done. 

It  is  pleasing-  to  see  in  your  paper 

A  name  that's  as  worthy  as  his, 
And  your  readers  will  all  be  delighted 

To  witness  the  smile  on  his  phiz  ; 
And  yourself — but  of  course  it  is  fancy 

Which  runs  throug-h  my  ignorant  brain — 
When  I  say  for  that  "puff"  you'll  be  welcome 

To  ride  when  you  choose  on  his  train. 

To  the  brig-lit,  sparkling-  eyes  of  the  ladies 

A  hero  he's  certain  to  pose ; 
He's  all  smiles,  like  a  cat  in  the  cupboard, 

With  dishes  of  cream  at  her  nose. 
How  the  darling-s  admire  his  white  linen, 

His  di'monds,  his  watch-chain,  and  rings, 
Oh,  they'd  think  him  an  angel  off  duty, 

Except  that  he's  minus  the  wings. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  317 

How  the  furrows  of  care  are  now  creeping 

Unbidden  his  features  about ; 
They  are  there  from  the  torture  he  suffers 

Each  day  that  his  coaches  go  out. 
The  suspense  of  his  calling-  is  fearful ! 

The  strain  on  his  nerves  is  severe  ! 
And  the  cushions  in  coaches  are  thorny 

To  sit  on  in  comfort,  I  fear. 

When  the  nights  are  dark,  foggy,  or  rainy, 

Torpedoes  may  fail  to  explode, 
And  the  train  may  be  suddenly  halted 

At  stations  not  marked  on  the  road ; 
For  his  eyes,  ever  watchful  of  danger, 

Can  see  far  ahead  in  the  night, 
But  he'll  soon  make  the  passengers  happy 

By  telling-  them  things  are  all  right. 

When  the  pumps  will  not  work  how  he  worries. 

And  often  injectors  will  "  break  ;  " 
It  is  sad  at  such  times  how  he'll  suffer  ; 

In  mental  affliction  he'll  shake. 
When  the  pointer  goes  back,  or  when  bearings 

From  friction  are  smoking-  and  hot, 
'Tis  a  pitiful  sight  to  behold  him 

Bewail  his  responsible  lot ! 


318  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

With  the  mercury  down  below  zero, 

And  chilled  from  his  head  to  his  toes, 
One  would  think  that  he'd  die  from  exposure, 

As  icicles  hung-  from  his  nose ; 
In  the  drawing-room  car  is  no  comfort 

For  Tom,  when  the  snow-drifts  are  high, 
But  the  boys  in  the  cab  are  in  clover, 

When  Boreas  shrieks  wild  through  the  sky. 

At  a  halt,  or  a  jar,  or  a  movement, 

Which  comes  unexpected,  he'll  frown; 
And  sharp  words  in  profusion  he'll  mutter, 

Regarding  his  blue-shirted  clown  ; 
Oh,  how  wise  then  the  passengers  think  him, 

When  fears  he'll  create  to  allay, 
For  they  know  his  cool  head  will  protect  them 

From  obstacles  strewn  in  the  way  ! 

I  could  sit  here  a  week  eulogizing 

His  curly,  executive  head, 
But  a  voice  is  discordantly  jarring 

The  strings  of  my  lyre  from  the  bed  ; 
And  the  stars  in  the  eastward  are  fading- 

Away  from  the  track  of  the  sun, 
So  dear  Mr.  Reporter,  good-morning, 

All  further  temptation  I'll  shun. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  319 

COME,  FILL  UP  YOUR  GLASS  TO  O'ERFLOWING. 

Come,  fill  up  your  glass  to  o'erflowing, 

And  drink  to  the  time  when  we  met ; 
When  hearts  were  with  merriment  glowing1, 

In  days  we're  too  apt  to  forget, 
When  you  and  I  followed  our  fancies, 

Regardless  of  where  we  would  stray, 
Providing  sweet  lilies  and  pansies 

Were  blooming  along  by  the  way. 

We  sipped  of  the  sweets  which  were  growing 

On  lips  luscious  ripe  to  be  pressed. 
We  fondled  the  dear  ones,  well  knowing 

The  pleasure  they'd  feel  when  caressed. 
Now  fill !  Here's  to  Susie  and  Mollie 

We  loved  long  ago  in  their  teens ; 
Who  always  felt  social  and  jolly, 

And  acted  as  graceful  as  queens. 

Bethink  you  the  night  in  the  gloaming, 

When  sweet  airy-nothings  we  wove, 
To  please  the  young  maids  who  were  roaming 

Beside  .us  in  Mayberry's  grove  ? 
Come,  drain  off  a  bumper  to  Fannie, 

The  darling  who  strolled  at  my  side, 
And  I  will  fill  up  to  dear  Annie, 

Who^laughed  when  you  called  her  your  bride. 


320  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

Once  more  let  us  fill  while  we've  reason, 

And  Mem'ry  presides  on  her  throne ; 
Our  hearts  can  feel  joy  for  a  season, 

When  thinking-  of  days  that  are  gone. 
We've  care  to  contend  with  too  often, 

When  breasting-  the  billows  of  strife, 
So,  here's  to  the  thoughts  which  can  soften 

The  buffets  we  meet  with  in  life. 

Too  soon  will  enjoyment  be  over, 

And  full  every  line  on  the  page ; 
We'll  live  the  remainder  in  clover, 

And  laugh  in  the  teeth  of  old  Age. 
With  wine  we  can  drive  away  wrinkles. 

Now,  fill  up  our  glasses  once  more  ; 
We'll  not  care  for  Time  when  he  sprinkles 

Our  locks  with  gray  hair  from  his  store. 


TO  J.   D.   HAMMOND. 

What  a  tramp  you  have  had  through  the  realms 

of  thought ! 

How  the  corns  must  torture  your  feet ! 
And  what  byways  and  hidden  resorts  you  have 

sought 

Through  the  years  that  have  vanished  so  fleet ! 
I  had  almost  forgotten  the  days  you  recall 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  321 

From  your  memory's  plentiful  store, 
Light  your  dudeen,  avick !  till  we'll  chat  over  all 
Those  bright  days  that  we'll  never  see  more. 

Nearly  twenty  long-  years  since  the  night  that 

we  made 

Our  debut  on  the  stage  to  the  throng ! 
Oh,  how  quickly  old  Time  is  descending  life's 

grade, 

As  he  drags  us  reluctant  along. 
How  we  fancied  that  night  what  great  actors  we 

were, 

And  we  looked  for  bouquets  at  the  close, 
But,  alas  !  save  a  cabbage  head  flung  at  us  there, 
No  applause  from  spectators  arose. 

How  you  made  up  your  phiz  for  a  villainous  part, 

And  how  tragic  you  strode  o'er  the  spot 
Where  you  fancied  the  people  would  thrill  at  the 

art 

You  displayed  jibing  "Judy  O'Trot." 
But,  my  boy,  by  the  smoke  that  ascends  'round 

my  nose, 

She  soon  brought'all  your  antics  to  grief 
With  the  handy  shillalah,  concealed  'neath  her 

clothes, 
As  she  hunted  you  off  like  a  thief. 

Sure  poor  "Flaherty"  never  was  fit  for  a  priest, 

Holy  church  does  not  want  such  as  he ; 

21 


322  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

For  he  never  could  fast,  but  the  first  at  a  feast 

Was  the  same  sly,  seductive  Magee. 
And  old  "Judy"  is  now  a  plump  matron,  whose 

waist 

Is  as  round  as  a  hillock  of  hay  ! 
And  yourself — an  old  bachelor,  stutfed  up  with 

paste, 
Which  you  use  to  drive  wrinkles  away. 

"  Ragged  Pat  "  is  still  here  puffing- mouthfuls  of 

smoke, 

Doing-  pennance  in  fevers  and  chills, 
For  the  days  and  the  nig-hts  that  he  scoffed  at 

life's  yoke, 

And  derided  humanity's  ills. 
He  is  changed,  I  confess,  and  I  fear  for  the  worse. 

Growing  old  with  the  buffets  of  time  ; 
Oh,  I  truly  believe  he  inherits  the  curse 

Meted  out  to  all  garblers  of  rhyme. 
Dennis  Hayes  he  is  rich  and  respected  besides ; 

"  Slang,"  he  lives,  but  a  warning  to  all 
Who  would  dare  follow  woman,  with  serpentine 

strides, 

'For  they  surely  will  meet  with  a  fall. 
So,  take  warning,  my  boy,  and  go  get  you  a  wife, 

You  are  yet  a  good  looking  gossoon ; 
Find  some  old  woman's  daughter  to  sweeten  your 

life 
With  a  dose  of  "  chin  music,"  aroon  ! 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  323 

"  Gentle  Florence  "  is  sleeping-  the  sleep  of  the 
dead, 

Where  Ontario's  clear,  liquid  wave 
Rolls  along-  on  the  beach,  in  monotonous  tread, 

And  besprinkles  the  grass  on  her  grave. 
And  "  Old  Stone  "  has  been  judged  by  the  Ruler 
of  kings, 

At  the  throne  of  Jehovah  on  high ; 
Let  us  hope  he's  an  angel,  adorned  with  wings, 

'Mongst  the  Christ-ransomed  souls  in  the  sk}^. 

How  the  memories  afloat,  clad  in  ghostly  array, 

Intermingled  with  smoke,  as  I  write  I 
Let  us  fill  a  fresh  pipe  till  we  drive  them  away 

To  the  graves  of  oblivion  to-night. 
In  a  few  fleeting  years  at  the  most  we  will  be 

Their  companions  again  evermore, 
For  we  soon  will  be  launched  on  that  limitless  sea, 

Which  no  mortal  did  ever  explore. 


LITTLE  BROWN  EYES. 

Here's  my  little  brown-eyed  beauty, 
With  her  head  of  sunny  curls. 

She's  the  sweetest,  and  the  dearest 
Of  all  darling  little  girls. 


324  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

She  comes  laughing-  when  I  call  her, 
And  she'll  jump  into  my  arms, 

Where  I  gaze  in  silent  rapture 
On  her  early  budding-  charms. 

If  I'm  sad  her  ringing-  laughter 

Soon  dispels  the  gloom  away, 
For  her  genial  disposition 

Can  change  night  to  glorious  day  ; 
She  is  ever  kind,  and  willing, 

And  obliging  as  can  be  ; 
She  is  all  my  earthly  treasure 

With  her  carols  full  of  glee. 

With  paternal  feelings,  tender, 

I  bestow  each  pure  embrace, 
Till  she's  nearly  suffocated, 

As  I  spread  them  o'er  her  face. 
May  the  years  pass  lightly  o'er  her, 

And  the  future  have  in  store 
Every  virtue  to  endow  her, 

Till  her  days  of  life  are  o'er. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  325 

TO   "HANDY  ANDY." 

Handy  Andy,  what  a  spalpeen 

Is  your  mother's  darling1  son, 
And  how  droll  you  cut  your  capers 

When  you're  dealing1  out  your  fun. 
You're  a  first-class  bastinado 

In  the  manner  which  you  write, 
And  a  moralizing  rascal, 

Who  pursues  me  day  and  night. 

How  you  gloat  about  my  torture, 

When  I'm  shaking  with  the  chills, 
In  the  rhymes  you  keep  prescribing, 

That  can  gripe  me  worse  than  pills. 
You  are  acting  as  a  mirror 

Holding  up  before  my  view, 
Sins  of  which  I  know  I'm  guiltless, 

Can  I  sa,y  the  same  for  you  ? 

If  you  look  within  your  bosom, 

If  you'll  pull  aside  the  veil 
Which  conceals  your  imperfections, 

And  repeat  to  us  the  tale 
Of  all  horrors  you'll  discern, 

Through  the  years  you  left  behind, 
What  a  moral  I  will  scribble 

As  a  warning  for  mankind  ! 


326  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

You  will  find  the  ten  commandments 

Are  all  knocked  in  smithereens ; 
All  our  holy  church's  precepts 

You  destroyed  when  in  your  teens ; 
For  pride,  avarice,  and  envy, 

Anger,  gluttony,  and  sloth, 
Are  all  sins  of  your  commission, 

I  will  take  my  honest  oath. 

You  would  like  to  tell  me,  Andy, 

How  to  lead  a  better  life ; 
While  yourself  would  play  the  rascal 

With  your  neighbor's  handsome  wife. 
But,  beware !  the  day  of  reck'ning 

Has  a  story  to  reveal 
Of  your  midnight  capers,  Andy, 

That  you  never  can  conceal. 

All  the  fishes  in  the  ocean, 

Served  on  Fridays  and  through  Lent, 
Will  not  purge  away  your  follies, 

In  your  efforts  to  repent. 
You  will  need  a  scourging  penance, 

Like  all  hypocritic  rogues, 
Some  sharp  carpet-tacks  well  scattered 

In  a  pair  of  cowhide  brogues. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  327 

I  am  not  much  of  a  Christian, 

And  I'll  tell  the  reason  why : 
In  my  youth  I  suffered,  Andy, 

'Neath  my  good  old  mother's  eye. 
I  was  doomed  for  holy  orders, 

Where  I'd  lead  a  saintly  life, 
'Till  the  faculty  determined 

I  had  better  take  a  wife. 

So  I'm  here  in  toil  and  trouble  ; 

And  hereafter,  who  can  tell 
Whether  up  I'll  go  to  Heaven, 

Or  go  down  below  to — Well, 
It  don't  matter  where  they'll  send  me, 

I'll  be  found  good  souls  among-, 
Where  I'll  hear  your  cries  below  me, 

Asking-  ice  to  cool  your  tongue. 


DOCTOR  LAWRENCE  REYNOLDS. 

(DELIVERED  AT  THE  BENEFIT  ENTERTAINMENT,  JUNE  15, 1882.) 

Kind  friends,  assembled  here  to-night, 
Whose  gen'rous  hearts  beat  high  and  warm 

For  him  removed  away  from  sight, 
With  hoary  locks  and  aged  form  ; 


328  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Who  struggles  'neath  a  stranger  sky, 
A  mere  subsistence  there  to  find ; 

Your  presence  here  can  testify 
To  numerous  friends  he  left  behind. 

The  lengthened  shadows  of  his  life 

Are  stretching  into  evening  gloom ; 
No  kindred  near,  no  child,  no  wife, 

To  smooth  his  pathway  to  the  tomb. 
But  we  who've  known  his  better  days, 

When  friendship  seemed  to  smile  secure, 
Will  ne'er  refuse  him  well-won  praise, 

Who  now  is  lonely,  old  and  poor. 

His  creed  is  simple  ;  it  is  laid 

Upon  the  universal  plan 
That  Christ  upon  the  Mount  portrayed 

When  dealing  with  his  fellow-man. 
His  heart  is  pure  and  free  from  guile, 

His  views  are  broad  and  unconfined  ; 
He  scorns  alike  the  bigot's  wile 

And  all  the  unbelieving  kind. 

With  pathos,  mirth,  and  heart-felt  song, 
He  wages  ceaseless  war  on  might ; 

He  never  yet  upheld  a  wrong, 
But  always  advocated  right. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  329 

For  this  he's  exiled  from  the  shores 
Where  first  he  drew  his  native  breath ; 

For  this  he  fought  in  Union  wars 

Where  Treason  met  its  bloody  death. 

Meagher's  Brigade  can  testify 

On  many  fields,  how  hard  he  strove 
To  keep  forever  floating  high 

The  banner,  which  all  freeman  love. 
Beneath  the  green  flag  in  the  van, 

He  faced  the  battle's  cloudy  marge, 
Where  blood  in  crimson  rivers  ran, 

Which  marked  the  valiant  Irish  charge. 

He  never  asked  the  creed  or  clime 

Of  dying  men  upon  the  sod ; 
But  preached  to  all  that  text  sublime, — 

To  trust  a  universal  God. 
If  human  aid  their  lives  could  save, 

He'd  labor  there  to  ease  their  pain  ; 
If  not,  the  pathway  to  the  grave 

He'd  smooth  for  every  hero  slain. 

And  such  a  creed  as  that  will  bind 
The  good  and  true  of  every  land  ; 

And  such  a  man  will  always  find 

Staunch  friends  to  take  him  by  the  hand  ; 


30  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Misfortune's  bitter  gales  may  blow 
And  strike  such  men  with  icy  breath, 

But  friendship's  grasp  will  ne'er  let  go 
Till  eyes  are  closed  and  sealed  in  death. 

Oh  !  had  I  but  his  gift  of  song, 

And  were  his  genius  mine,  I'd  write 
How  well  I  thank  the  generous  throng 

Of  friends,  who  love  him  here  to-night. 
Tho'  absent  we  shall  ne'er  forget 

How  well  he  filled  old  Nature's  plan  ; 
And  till  his  sun  of  life  shall  set, 

We'll  aid  the  old  and  lonely  man. 


LINES  READ  AT  A  UNION   MEETING, 
BANGOR,  ME. 

Now,  my  brothers,  imagine  me  standing  before 

you, 

In  talent,  the  least  of  our  Brotherhood's  bards. 
I  have  made  (in  nry  mind)  this  long  trip  to  encore 

you, 

As  here  you'  ve  assembled,  and  pay  my  regards. 

I  have  left  the  cold  hills  of  New  York,  where  the 

waters 
Are  frozen  for  months  in  a  vast,  icy  plain  ; 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  331 

Took  a  tramp,  as  it  were,  to  the  wives  and  the 

daughters, 
And  husbands  and  Brothers,  residing1  in  Maine. 

Sure,  methinks  I  see  Tucker,  that  prince  of  good 

fellows, 

Who  always  is  certain  of  Brotherhood  cheers, 
Because  he  is  kind,  as  his  actions  all  tell  us, 

And  treats  with  respect  all  his  loved  engineers. 
May  his  name  sound  along  down  the  ages  in 

gladness, 
Enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  the  good  and  the 

brave, 
'Till  old  Death  whistles  brakes,  and  we  place  him 

in  sadness, 
To  rest,  as  our  tears  we  bestrew  on  his  grave. 

We  brought  Foss — he's  our  Chief,  and  a  kind  of 

a  dandy, 
His  trips  are  all  made  with  his  gloves  on  his 

hands. 
How  I'd  like  to  write  down  just  the  same  of  poor 

Shandy, 
Whose  fists  are  both  greasy  from  scouring 

the  glands. 
Brothers  Angel  and  Spier,  Keith,  Towle,  Lowe, 

and  Sampson, 

Rowe,  Richardson,  Sweet,  Ferry,  Gilbert  and 
Dean, 


332  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Every  one  of  them  worthy  a  nobleman's  ransom, 
And  faithful  as  any  existing-  in  Maine. 

And  we've  Fortier  here  too;  yes,  and  Coburn 

smiling-, 
And  Davis,   and    hearty,  g-ood-natured   "old 

Dan," 
Close,  and  Rafter,  in  mirth  and  the  moments 

beguiling, 

With  stories  of  numerous  miles  which  they  ran. 
Brothers  Hilborn,  Gilpin,and  Cobb  are  delighted, 

And  taking  a  little  respite  from  rough  toil ; 
1  will  mention  one  more  who  came  near  being 

slighted, 
You  know  I  refer  to  my  countryman,  Doyle. 

To  the  rest  of  you  here,  though  denied  of  the 
pleasure 

Of  saying  I  know  you  and  met  you  before, 
I  will  whisper  my  joy,  the  first  moment  of  leisure, 

And  talk  in  the  language  of  mystical  lore. 
Oh  !  I  know  there  is  pride  in  each  social  reunion, 

To  tell  it  defying  the  power  of  my  pen, 

As  we  gather  in  crowds  and  converse  in  commun 
ion, 
Uniting'  in  friendship  all  Brotherhood  men . 

Tho'  in  Bangor  we  meet  we  are  banded  together, 
Cemented  by  ties  which  are  dear  to  each  heart ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  333 

And   we   come,  disregarding-    the    distance    or 

weather, 

I  know  with  regrets  from  your  town  we'll  de 
part. 
But  while  mem'ry  survives  we  will  think  of  this 

meeting, 
And  shrine  up  the  moments  we  spent  at  your 

side, 

Till  assembled  again  for  another  such  greeting, 
Some  day,  not  far  off,  as  we  future  ward  glide. 

While  we're  true  to  the  cause  we'll  be  true  to  each 
other, 

And  men  will  respect  us  all  over  the  land ; 
Let  us  prove  there  is  more  in  the  title  of  "brother," 

Than  simply  the  name  and  a  clasp  of  the  hand  ; 
If  we  do,  Payson  Tuckers  all  over  the  nation 

Will  surely  befriend  us  when  needing  their  aid ; 
For  each  one  can  be  faithful,  tho'  lowly  in  station, 

And  truthful  and  honest,  while  climbing  life's 
grade. 


WINSOME  JENNIE. 

Winsome  Jennie  came  to-day 

With  a  wreath  of  smiles  to  meet  me  ; 
As  she  spied  me,  when  at  play, 

And  with  radient  joy  did  greet  me. 


334  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Childish  curls  hang-ing-  down 
O'er  her  neck,  such  sunny  tresses  ! 

Not  a  sig-n  of  fear  or  frown, 
Dealing  out  her  sweet  caresses. 

Jennie,  little  can  you  tell 

Of  the  years  long  since  departed, 
When  your  mother  was  a  belle, 

And  I  nearly  broken-hearted  ! 
How  the  times  have  chang-ed  since  then  ! 

Here  I'm  now  in  mid-years,  rather 
Wrinkled,  like  all  toiling  men, 

Old  enough  to  be  your  father ! 

I  can  see  your  mother's  eyes 
Sparkling-  in  unconscious  gladness  ! 

But,  they  cost  me  many  sighs  ! 

Yes,  and  nights  of  sleepless  madness, 
In  the  dreamy  long  ago  ! 

Ere  the  cup  of  youth  flowed  over, 
And  exposed  its  dregs  of  woe, 

To  her  old  time  ardent  lover ! 

How  my  youthful  fancies  wove 
Garlands  out  of  airy  notions  ! 

How  I'd  rhyme  of  dove  and  love, 
Pledging  all  my  heart's  devotions  ! 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  335 

Daily,  hourly.     Could  it  last  ? 

Well,  it  didn't,  for  we  parted, 
When  our  dream  of  love  was  past 

Neither  one  died  broken-hearted  ! 

When  we  meet  so  seldom  now, 

She  is  like  some  saintly  sister ; 
And  denies  each  loving-  vow 

Which  she  made  as  oft  I  kissed  her. 
I  am  changed  I  must  confess, 

She  has  lost  her  former  graces. 
Silver  streaks  through  ev'ry  tress  ; 

Turkey  tracks  on  both  our  faces ! 

Handsome  blonde  !     I  see  her  yet, 

As  in  dreams  I  backward  wander  ! 
When  she  swore  to  ne'er  forget, 

But  through  life  to  love  the  fonder. 
Lovers'  oaths  !     A  perjured  train, 

Retrospectively  are  dancing, 
In  each  settled,  sober  brain, 

Of  those  moments  spent  entrancing ! 

Now,  at  last,  our  dreams  are  over, 
And  your  fickle-hearted  mother 

Went  to  browse  in  other  clover, 
Like  myself  she  wed  another. 


336  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Winsome  Jennie  !  never  tell 
Of  this  resurrected  story, 

For,  you  know,  my  little  belle, 
Both  our  heads  are  growing  hoary. 


TO  GRAND  CHAPLAIN  EVERETT. 

You  are  now  the  Grand  Chaplain  of  Brotherhood 

men 

And,  by  virtue  of  office,  the  "Sisterhood"  too, 
Will  peruse  with  delight  every  flash  of  your  pen, 

And  think  them  infallible  coming1  from  you. 
There's  a  license  attached  to  your  calling  we 

know, 

You  are  sure  of  a  welcome  wherever  you  go. 
'Tis  a  roving  commission  to  steer  where  you 

choose, 
Just  as  free  as  the  flights  you  partake  with  your 

muse. 

For  a  man  with  a  clerical  cut  to  his  coat, 
Will  be  sure  of  distinction  and  worthy  of  note. 
'Tis  a  calling  I  love  from  the  depths  of  my  heart ; 
They're  the  boys  who  can  furnish  us  compass  and 

chart 

For  a  flesh-purging  trip,  on  the  ocean  of  life ; 
Where   we're  told  to  avoid  all  contention  and 

strife, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  337 

And  admonished  to  scourge  the  grim  tempter 
away 

That  has  made  his  abode  in  our  caskets  of  clay. 

We  are  told  to  give  alms,  practice  fasting  and 
prayer, 

Whilst  themselves  can  sit  down  to  rich,  sumptu 
ous  fare. 

Yes,  they  mark  out  the  course  they  insist  we  must 

steer, 
For  the  portals  of  Heaven,  where  bliss  evermore 

Will  be  meted  out  freely  to  each  engineer, 
When  he  climbs  up  the  grade  of  the  "Beautiful 
Shore." 

Now,  my  worthy  old  friend,  theological  schools 
Do  not  teach  all  the  wisdom  this  world  contains; 

For  I've  known  one  or  two  egotistical  fools 
Who  supposed  they  were  preaching  to  men 
without  brains. 

On  the  fat  of  the  land  every  day  they  could  dine, 

And  they  gargled  their  throats  with  full  bumpers 
of  wine ; 

Dressed  in  choicest  of  broadcloth  for  daily  pa 
rades 

As  they  sauntered,  consoling  wives,  widows  and 
maids, 

You  are  not  of  this  class,  for  I  know  you  of  old, 

I  am  sure  you  will  lead  all  the  sheep  to  the  fold. 

Like  the  piper  of  Hamelin,  your  musical  trills 

22 


338  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Are  the  strains  we  will  follow  up  Heavenly  hills. 
All  the  ladies  here  praise  every  song1  from  your 

lyre, 
And  they  say  you  sing  sweeter  than  Shandy  Ma- 

guire, 
I  supposed  myself  once  the  high  priest  of  the 

dears, 

Which  I  was  till  the  darlings  became  engineers. 
But,  alas !  I'm  dethroned,  and  you  reign  in  my 

place ; 

For  all  clerical  chaps  with  mellifluous  gab, 
With  a  smooth,  oily  tongue,  and  a  meek  looking 

face, 
Are  more  prized  by  the  ladies  than  men  in  the 

cab. 


Oh,  I  wish  that  I'd  never  made  rhymes  about 

goats ! 

Or  betrayed  half  the  secrets  our  lodge-rooms 
contain, 

Or  divulged  to  the  "  sisters  "  the  way  they  could 

note 
How  their  husbands  keep  flirting  when  out  on 

the  train. 
Yes,  I  rhymed  about  twins,  about  squallers,  and 

brats, 

For  I  hated  them  worse  than  the  Kilkenny  cats. 
When  a  man  runs  all  day  he  finds  little  delight 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  339 

Crawling"  home  to  the  kids  he  must  dry-nurse  at 

nigiit. 
These  were  sorrowful  thoughts,  they  influenced 

my  song-, 

And  my  pen  followed  freely  the  stanzas  along-, 
As  I  thoug-ht  of  the  bottle,  the  cradle  and  pair 
Of  young-  monkeys,  whose  lungs  could  out-bellow 

"  a  bear, 

Or  a  master-machinist  whose  tongue  g-ets  untied 
When  he  sees  his  pet  engine  come  home  on  one 

side. 
When  the  fruits  of  our  marriage  come  single 

they'll  do, 

And  they  help  to  atone  for  our  manifold  sins, 

But  whenever  they  come  in  installments  of  two, 

Heaven  pity  the  wretch  who's  afflicted  with 

twins. 

I  would  like  to  continue  this  subject,  but  Lord  ! 

How  the  ear-piercing  screams  of  the  imps  in  my 

ears 
Penetrate  to  my  heart,  till  all  writings  abhorred, 

And  my  eyes  are  a  deluge  of  sorrowful  tears. 
In  conclusion,  a  little  advice  I'll  bestow  : 
Shun  the  ladies  the  same  as  your  deadliest  foe ; 
Or  if  not,  all  the  peace  of  your  life  they'll  destroy, 
And  your  laughter  they'll  change  into  weeping, 
my  boy. 


340  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Be  they  "  Sisterhood  Lodges  "  or  "  Lady  Aid  " 

rings, 

Individual  sirens,  or  angels  with  wings. 
If  you  practice  these  precepts  I'm  certain  you'll 

find 

More  serenity,  comfort,  and  peace  for  your  mind, 
Than  be  singing  for  husbands  to  match  with  the 

dears, 

On  a  voyage  in  wedlock  where  hardship  begins, 
Where  the  market  with  some  is  controlled  by  the 

"Bears," 
And  with  others  'tis  "  Bulled"  by  cantankerous 

twins. 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  IN  CAMP,  1885. 

They  sat  before  a  genial  fire, 

Their  hearts  were  kindled  with  desire. 

All  trans-atlantic  faces  there, 

And  anxious  looks  each  one  did  wear. 

They  peered  into  the  growing  gloom 

The  shades  of  night  spread  'round  the  room, 

As  if  they  sought  some  comrade  dear, 

And  listened  for  his  footsteps  near. 

At  last  they  heard  the  welcome  sound, 

As  on  the  walk  it  did  resound  ; 

The  well-known  form,  in  joyous  song, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  341 

Came  caroling-  in  speed  along1, 

Till  in  their  midst  stood  Rory  Joyce, 

The  owner  of  the  silvery  voice, 

With  features  all  aglow ! 
He  was  the  spokesman  of  the  band, 
He  searched  for  news  of  fatherland, 
Then  told  it  to  his  comrades  dear, 
Who  caught  it  in  each  eager  ear, 

This  tale  of  friend  and  foe  : 

"  Oh !  boys,"  he  said,  "  fill  up  each  glass, 
To-night  the  toast  must  freely  pass  ; 
I've  got  some  glorious  news  to  tell 
About  the  old  land  and  Parnell ; 
He's  sweeping  obstacles  away 
From  Derry's  wall  to  Bantry  Bay ; 
From  shore  to  shore,  from  sea  to  sea, 
He  says  he'll  make  old  Ireland  free. 
On  every  hill  the  bon-fi res  blaze, 
Like  erstwhile  in  the  glorious  days, 
When  noble  Brian  led  his  train 
Of  pikemen  after  fleeing  Dane. 
Election's  over  and  he's  won, 
Without  the  aid  of  pike  or  gun, 

Or  shedding  precious  blood  ; 
In  loyal  bonds  each  man  was  bound, 
And — save  one  dastard — all  were  found 


342  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Beneath  his  banner,  till  the  tide 
Of  battle  to  our  leader's  side 

Came  rolling-  in  a  flood. 

"  Oh !  think  of  all  the  hopeless  years 
We  stood  our  foemen's  haughty  sneers  ! 
And  when  we  sought  redemption,  blows 
Were  given  to  allay  our  woes  ; 
We  suffered  in  our  slavish  chains, 
The  most  excruciating  pains  ; 
We  sought  to  burst  them,  but  we  found 
We  were  more  tightly  in  them  bound. 
Disunion  in  our  ranks  plowed  deep ; 
Our  foemen  fruitful  crops  did  reap 
Of  all  the  patriotic  men, 
Who  failed  to  gain  some  secret  glen. 
The  gallows,  block,  the  rack,  the  rope, 
Have  oft  extinguished  Erin's  hope, 

And  flooded  her  with  tears  ; 
But  soon  again  her  sons  would  rise, 
And  struggle  hard  to  win  the  prize, 
Of  freedom  from  the  alien  band, 
Who  terrorized  our  native  land 

For  seven  hundred  years. 

"  But,  boys,  the  clouds  are  rolling  by— 
I  see  them  with  prophetic  eye — 
The  sun  of  freedom's  glorious  day 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  343 

Shall  soon  send  forth  its  genial  ray, 
Illuminating'  hill  and  dale, 
From  Antrim's  heights  to  old  Kinsale. 
From  Galway's  shores  to  Wicklow's  hills, 
The  sweeping  vales  and  babbling  rills, 
The  plains  of  choicest  em'rald  green, 
The  rivers,  gliding  on  serene, 
Each  old,  historic  field  and  height, 
Shall  soon  enjoy  the  wished  for  light, 
And  Irishmen  shall  win  applause, 
By  framing  just  and  wholesome  laws, 

Where  statesmen,  eloquent 
In  all  that  makes  a  nation  free, 
Uniting  men  fraternally, 
And  legislating  like  the  days, 
When  Erin  did  the  world  amaze, 

In  Grattan's  parliament. 

"Now  fill  and  drink  success  to  all 
Who  did  obey  our  leader's  call, 
And  may  another  Christmas  eve 
Behold  a  nation  round  him  weave 
Her  brightest  garlands,  may  he  stand 
The  liberator  of  the  land." 
As  Rory  ceased  each  man  a.rose, 
And  gave  three  hearty  cheers  for  those 
Who  made  the  latest  glorious  fight, 


344  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  showed  the  world  our  cause  is  right, 

That  union  in  our  ranks  at  last 

Can  win  success.     The  ages  past 

Have  proved  how  hrawls  can  wreak  more  woe 

Within  our  midst  than  mail-clad  foe, 

Upon  the  tented  field. 
And  there  on  old  Kentucky's  soil, 
Those  hardy  sons  of  honest  toil, 
Who  loved  this  land  of  freedom  true, 
Rejoiced  that  Ireland's  landlord  crew 

Would  soon  be  forced  to  yield. 


A  TRIP  IN   DREAMLAND. 

I  have  mounted  to  Heaven  on  pinions  of  light, 
Where  St.  Peter  and  I  had  a  confab  one  night, 
Talking  over  old  times  with  the  keenest  delight, 

As  the  stars  far  beneath  us  did  gleam. 
I  have  also  been  down  to  those  regions  below, 
Which  are  sadly  in  need  of  a  blizzard  of  snow, 
W  here  the  souls  of  the  damned  are  expected  to  go, 

But  my  visits  were  made  in  a  dream. 

From  a  thirty  hours'  trip  t'other  evening  I  sank 
For  a  snooze  on  the  welcome  soft  side  of  a  plank, 
With  a  big  lump  of  coal  which  I  took  from  the  tank, 
For  a  pillow  to  rest  my  tired  head. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  345 

I  was  soon  in  a  dream  and  with  hurricane  speed, 
On  the  back  of  a  weird,  supernatural  steed, 
I  arrived  at  a  place  which  looked  dismal,  indeed, 
Where  are  kept  in  confinement  the  dead. 

In  an  instant  a  palsy  I  took  in  my  knees, 
And  my  eyes  at  an  angle  of  ninety  degrees 
Begun  squinting-  about  like  a  rat  stealing  cheese, 

And  my  horse  fled  away  with  a  moan ; 
I  would  give  all  the  wealth  I  e'er  saw  to  get  back, 
I'd  be  happy  in  snow  drifts  as  high  as  the  stack  ; 
Oh,  I  suffered  the  tortures  of  gibbet  or  rack, 

When  along  came  my  friend  Mick  Malone. 

"  By  the  piper  that  played  before  Moses,"  said 
Mick, 

"You  are  lucky  to  get  from  the  clutch  of  ould 

Nick, 

And  you're  welcome,  a  thousand  times  welcome, 
avick  ! 

To  a  place  in  the  penitent  gang. 
Take  a  seat,  Shandy,  dear,  on  this  trunk  of  a 

tree; 

I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  acushla  machree  ! 
Light  your  pipe,  take  a  whiff,  and  then  pass  it 

to  me, 
For  my  lips  are  both  blistered  with  'whang.' ' 


346  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"Arrah!  Micky,"  said  I,  "in  the  name  of  the 

Lord, 
What's  the  name  of  this  country  I'm  in  ?     By 

my  word, 
'Tis  a  bleak  looking-  place,  and  I  never  yet  heard, 

of  a  region  so  dismal  before. 
With  a  laugh  he  replied,  "Purgatory,  my  boy, 
And  as  bleak  as  it  looks  we  have  moments  of  joy 
That  a  board  of  directors  can  never  destroy, 

In  the  manner  they  ground  us  of  yore." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  so,  Mick  ?    Faith  I've  heard  of 

the  place, 
'Tis  a  clime    where  poor  souls  must  wipe  off 

their  disgrace," 
"  You  are  right,"  said  my  friend,  blowing  into 

my  face 

A  whole  mouthful  of  "Nigger-head"  smoke. 
"  You've  a  long1  time  to  stay,  Brother  Shandy," 

he  cried. 
But  your  sentence  it  dates  from  the  moment  you 

died, 
You  were  lucky  to  have  the  good  priest  at  your 

side 
To  redeem  you  from  IngersolPs  yoke." 

"  Am  I  dead,  Mick  "  I  asked.     "  As  a  herring" 

said  he, 
"  Just  as  sure  as  you're  sitting  and  talking  with 

me." 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  34? 

"Well,  if  such  is  the  case,  I'm  delighted  to  be 

"With  a  comrade  I  truly  admire. 
Mick,  I  prayed  for  your  soul  many  times  since 

the  day 
That  we  covered  your  body  'neath  four  feet  of 

clay, 
When  I  scarcely  could  drag-  your  poor  Jennie 

away, 
And  I  thought  that  she,  too,  would  expire." 

"Arrah,  Shandy,  how  is  my  poor  Jennie,"  he 
said, 

"  Is  she  happy  ?"     "  She  is ;  for,  my  boy,  she  is 
wed 

To  a  dashing-  young-  gent,  who  consoles  her  in 
stead 
Of  a  husband  she  sighed  for  like  you. 

Your  insurance  she  got  and  she  dressed  up  in 
crape ; 

By  the  aid  of  cosmetics  and  cotton,  her  shape 

Would  entice  a  poor  hermit  with  mouth  all  agape, 
And  the  dimes  she  had  plentiful,  too." 

Mickey  said  not  a  word,  but  his  eyes  filled  with 

tears, 

For  he  knew  he  was  one  of  those  soft  engineers 
Whose  big  toes  are  no  sooner  turned  up  on  their 

biers 
Than  their  wives  go  in  search  of  a  "mash." 


348  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

In  the  richest  of  crape  on  the  street  they  parade, 
And  they  look  with  disdain  on  a  simpering  maid, 
For  they're  posted  in  tricks  of  the  man-catching 

trade, 
And,  besides,  they  have  plenty  of  cash. 

There  were  numerous  crowds  of  both  sexes  about, 
Occupied  in  regrets  for  past  actions,  no  doubt, 
Or,  perhaps,  they  were  watching-  a  chance  to  get 
out 

O'er  the  well  guarded  walls  of  the  place. 

As  they  sauntered  along  there  were  many  I  knew; 

'Mongst  the  females  I  saw  I  remembered  a  few, 

And  they  all  seemed  to  stare  in  surprise  at  me, 

too, 

With  a  look  of  delight  on  each  face. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  I  said,  speaking  gently  to 

Mick, 

Who  kept  weeping  away  at  the  dastardly  trick 
Which  his  widow  played  on  him  impatiently  quick, 

"  Who  is  that  fellow  there  on  the  right  ?  " 
"He's  a  playboy,"  he  said,  "and  Belisle  is  his 

name, 

Not  a  moment  of  peace  have  we  had  since  he  came, 
He's  a  noted  disturber,  and  fills  us  with  shame 

At  the  way  he  can  pick  up  a  fight." 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  349 

"Who  are  these  fellows  here  just  appearing-  to 
view  ?" 

"  They  are  Barry  and  Garland  of  One-Fifty-Two, 
And  a  pair  of  sly  codgers,  between  me  and  you," 

Said  my  g-hostly  old  friend  with  a  grin. 

"Who  is  this  fellow  standing-  abreast  of  us  now, 

With  a  smile  on  his  broad,  intellectual  brow  ?  " 

Mickey  said  :  "He's  the  chap  who  kicked  up  such 

a  row, 

In  behalf  of  our  widows,  named  Lynn." 

In  a  moment  or  two  M.  J.  Lynn  moved  along-, 
Soon  I  heard  a  few  words  of  a  comical  song-, 
And  I  noticed  Nat  Sawyer,  who  moved  with  the 
throng-, 

By  the  side  of  a  sweet  little  dear. 
"  Who's  the  lady,"  I  said,  who  is  walking-  with 

Nat  ?  " 

"  She's  a  skating--rink  belle,  and  as  spry  as  a  cat, 
But  old  Death  came  along-  and  he  down  on  her  sat, 

And  soon  Sawyer  caug-ht  on  to  her  here." 

Georg-e  Van  Tassel  strolled  listlessly  by  with  an 

air 

Of  the  deepest  abstraction,  akin  to  despair, 
And  the  "  Lives  of  the  Saints  "  he  perused  \vith 

great  care, 
As  I  judged  from  the  look  of  his  face. 


350  SHANDY   MAGUIRE. 

Peter  Gibson  marched  next  in  the  scope  of  my  eye, 
He  was  singing  a  hymn  called  "  The  Sweet  Bye 

and  Bye," 

To  a  band  of  she-angels,  all  ready  to  fly 
Far  away  from  his  saintly  embrace. 

"  Who's  that  chap  over  there  with  a  tear  on  his 

nose, 

And  a  clerical  cut  to  his  well  fitting  clothes  ?  " 
"  'Tis  your  friend,  Delos  Everett,"  said  Mick  :  I 

arose 

From  my  seat  in  the  greatest  surprise. 
.  "What's  the  matter?"  he  said.  "Sure  I  thought," 

I  replied, 
"From  the  manner  he  preached,  that  the  moment 

he  died 

Heaven's  portals  would  swing  to  admit  him  inside, 
To  eternal  reward  in  the  skies." 

"  Behold  Dutcher  and  Donaldson  fronting   us 

there," 
"  Do  you  tell  me  so,  Mick  ?  Point  them  out  to  me. 

Where  ? 
Oh,  begor !  now  I  see  them,  a  beautiful  pair 

Of  New  Yorkers  I  truly  behold  !  " 
"  Here  comes  Ingraham,  too,  and  his  sentence  is 

light, 
Very  soon  he'll  be  poising  his  pinions' for  flight 


SHANDY   MAGUIKE.  351 

To  a  place  where  good  souls  enjoy  endless  delight, 
Over  streets  paved  with  ingots  of  gold." 

"Be  in  order,  my  Brothers,"  in  thunder  tones 

clear, 
Came  a  voice  like  a  dagger-thrust  piercing  my 

ear. 
Oh,  I  trembled  in  dread,  as  the  Grand  Chief  drew 

near, 

With  a  ponderous  gavel  of  oak. 
"By  the  Lord,  Mick,  I'm  off!  let  me  bid  you 

farewell, 

For  I'd  rather  be  down  with  the  kid  gloves  in 
-Tell 

Billy  Thompson  to  go  for  the  skating-rink  belle," 
And  in  anguish  of  heart  I  awoke. 


ON  THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  DIVISION   NO.  167. 

ORDER  OF  RAILWAY  CONDUCTORS,  OSWEGO,  N.  Y. 

On  occasions  like  the  present, 

There's  a  feeling  of  delight, 
Radiating  round  my  goose  quill, 

As  the  stanzas  I  indite  ; 
For  a  grand,  new  star  has  risen 

In  your  galaxy,  and  I 
Have  a  personal  opinion, 

'Tis  the  brightest  in  your  sky. 


352  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

They're  a  band  of  noble  fellows, 

Each  one  filling-  nature's  plan, 
And  prepared  to  take  position 

In  the  Brotherhood  of  man ;      « 
Upright,  honest,  gentlemanly, 

Faithful,  steadfast,  tried,  and  true  ; 
Each  one  handsome  as  Adonis, 

When  arrayed  in  gold  and  blue  ! 

I  have  rode  ahead  of  many, 

During-  long  and  tedious  years, 
And  I  know  they're  royal  fellows, 

Who  admire  their  engineers  ; 
For  their  "  All'  aboard  "  is  ready 

When  the  time  arrives  to  go, 
And  they  cheerfully  assist  us 

In  the  sunshine  or  the  snow. 

I  have  known  them  let  our  firemen, 

Go  and  ransack  through  the  train, 
When  in  search  of  waste  and  tallow, 

And  they  never  would  complain  ; 
For  our  engines  here  are  limited 

To  beggarly  supplies ; 
And  when  stealing  from  the  trainmen, 

They  are  sure  to  shut  their  eyes. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  353 

They  have  Bibles  in  their  coaches, 

Which  they  carefully  peruse, 
They  know  all  about  the  Gentiles, 

And  are  posted  on  the  Jews  ; 
And  when  female  ears  are  willing1, 

How  they  pour  the  Scriptures  in 
To  the  darling-  little  creatures, 

To  avoid  committing-  sin  ! 

I  have  heard  of  some  conductors 

Who  have  captivating1  smiles 
To  bestow  on  handsome  ladies, 

Riding-  over  many  miles, 
But  I  know  it  is  a  falsehood 

Calculated  to  assail 
The  unblemished  reputation 

Of  the  blue-coats  of  the  rail. 

There  was  never  yet  an  angel 

Half  as  virtuous  in  life, 
As  the  boys  in  this  Division, 

Each  one  faithful  to  his  wife. 
There's  no  Brigam  Young  amongst  them, 

Make  a  note  you  sirens  all, 
When  upon  their  trains  you're  riding, 

And  expecting  them  to  fall. 

23 


354  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

They  can  take  your  whole  dimensions, 

From  your  crimson  colored  nose, 
To  the  neatly  turned  ankle 

You  display  in  silken  hose  ; 
And  your  perfumed  breath  in  whispers 

Passes  powerless  througii  their  ears ; 
They  are  proof  against  seduction, 

Try  your  wiles  on  engineers. 

Now  I  think  I've  said  sufficient, 

And  although  'tis  written  tame, 
I  desired  to  eulogize  them 

To  the  breezy  heights  of  fame  ; 
But  my  Muse  she  is  a  groundling 

That  can  never  upward  soar, 
Where  I'd  love  to  place  my  heroes 

'Mongst  the  gallant  knights  of  yore. 
******** 

I  regret  not  meeting  Chapman 

When  he  made  his  visit  here, 
They  all  vote  him  a  good  fellow, 

And  I  know  they  are  sincere  ; 
But  I  send  him  honest  greeting 

Ere  I  drop  my  weary  pen, 
Though  I'm  but  a  simple  unit 

In  the  brotherhood  of  men. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  355 

A  NEGATIVE  VOTE  ON  THE  "WOMAN'S 
DEPARTMENT." 

Have  a  "  Woman's  Department !"  God  help  us  ! 

We've  too  much  of  petticoat  rule ; 
We're  crushed  and  caressed  by  the  women, 

'Till  each  one  parades  as  a  fool. 
We  have  heard   "womens'   rights"   from  the 
rostrum, 

The  pulpit,  the  press,  and  the  pen, 
'Till  we  cry  from  our  hearts  full  of  anguish, 

"  What  rights  are  intended  for  men  ?  " 

Have  a  "  Woman's  Department !  "  I  shudder 

To  think  how  your  sex  would  employ 
All  the  space  we  would  vote  you  each  number, 

The  peace  of  our  lives  you'd  destroy. 
You'd  be  writing  of  Tom,  Dick  or  Harry, 

And  praising  the  cut  of  each  jib, 
'Till  we'd  all  be  your  slaves,  like  old  Adam, 

From  whom  you  have  stolen  a  rib. 

We  have  now  many  "Lady  Divisions," 
Where  sisterhood  grips  are  the  rage, 

Where  the  Brotherhood  bo3rs  are  berated 
As  slow  for  a  husband-hood  age. 

We  have  "lady-aid"  lodges  and  "circles," 
And  "socials,"  and  lord  knows  what  not. 


356  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Do  you  think  for  a  Woman's  Department 
A  space  in  our  Journal  we've  got  ? 

We  will  vote  you  some  space  in  our  bosoms, 

And  give  you  a  place  on  our  knees, 
Where  we'll  whisper  the  passwords  and  tokens 

Essential  to  take  your  degrees  ; 
We  will  sing"  you  "soft  nonsense"  in  plenty, 

And  keep  your  eyes  dancing-  with  joy ; 
But  a  Woman's  Department — no,  never  ! 

I  swear  by  each  twin-tortured  boy  ! 

Had  you  sent  us  a  plan  or  prospectus, 

Wherein  your  intentions  we'd  note, 
Perhaps  you'd  have  got  the  department 

In  spite  of  my  negative  vote. 
"Oh,  acushla  machree,"  said  my  mother, 

The  night  I  marched  off  to  be  wed, 
"  If  you'll  take  my  advice  you'll  stay  snoring, 

Alone  in  your  peaceable  bed." 

Gloomy  wisdom  of  years  !  sure  the  poet 

Conceded  he'd  mystical  lore 
When  he  sang  of  events  which  were  coming, 

And  casting  their  shadows  before. 
Had  I  heeded  the  warning  she  gave  me, 

The  crow-feet  of  care  would  be  light, 
And  my  twins,  who  excite  you  to  laughter, 

Would  be  in  oblivion  to-night. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  357 

You've  a  musical  voice;  I'm  delighted 

To  welcome  yourself  to  our  ranks ; 
You  have  taken  my  side  against  Everett, 

For  which  I  extend  you  my  thanks. 
He  is  trying  to  march  with  the  ladies, 

Whilst  you  and  I  laugh  at  the  fun. 
Very  soon  we  will  hear  an  explosion 

Resound  from  a  "breech-loading  gun." 

In  behalf  of  my  Brothers,  1  thank  you, 

Right  here,  in  these  lines  of  my  song ; 
Now  the  innocent  boys  may  keep  flirting 

With  women  while  passing  along. 
1  am  glad  my  suspicions  were  groundless 

When  thinking  them  guilty  of  crime, 
And  their  wives  will  unite  with  me,  madam, 

In  lavishing  praise  on  your  rhyme. 


THE  HATS  OUR- FATHERS  WORE. 

Hurrah  for  Grover  Cleveland ;  he's  the  leader 

of  our  band, 
The  Moses  who  we  long  have  sought  to  reach 

the  Promised  Land, 
Where  plenty  smiles  on  ev'ry  side  to  bless  the 

wond'ring  stare 
Of  those  who  long  have  sighed  and  prayed  to 

breathe  its  purer  air. 


358  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And,  now,  we're  marching-  breast  to  breast,  in 

solid,  stately  tread, 

A  mighty  army  on  the  move,  a  victor  at  our 
head. 

Such  columns  of  true  Democrats  were  never  seen 

before 
As  here  parade  beneath  the  hats  our  honest 

fathers  wore. 

Last  night  Oswego's  streets  ablaze  with  thous 
ands  in  their  pride, 

Made  sluggish  blood  course  forth  anew  from 
hearts  long-  sorely  tried, 

By  grim  defeat,in  former  years,but  now  the  times 
are  changed, 

For  Democrats  march  side  by  side  who  have  been 
long  estranged. 

With  flambeaus,  flares,  and  oriflammes,  with  wild, 
hilarious  cries, 

It  seemed  that  Grover  Cleveland's  name  did  pene 
trate  the  skies. 

Our  voices  were  like  breakers  on  Ontario's  rock- 
bound  shore, 

A  mighty  host,  beneath  the  hats  our  noble  fathers 
wore. 

The  very  earth  resounded  with  the  glory  of  our 

cause, 
Presaging  that  right  soon  we'd  have  more  pure 

and  wholesome  laws, 


SHANDY   MAGUIKE.  359 

That  plenty  would  the  poor  man  bless,  that  thrift 

would  rule  the  land, 
That  idle  wheels  ag-ain  should  hum,  and  thievery 

be  banned ; 
That  men  have  burst  the  gulling-  chains  which 

fettered  them  so  long-, 
That  Rigilt  shall  crush  the  viper  head  of  that 

foul  despot  Wrong-, 

That  Cleveland  will  protect  each  man  who'll 

cross  Atlantic  o'er 
To  visit  Europe  'neath  the  hats  our  good  old 

fathers  wore. 


I   HAVE  ROUGHED  IT  ALONG. 

I  have  roug-hed  it  along-  o'er  the  ocean  of  life, 
And  I've  passed  its  equator  some  time. 

'Twas  a  voyage  so  far  amid  turmoil  and  strife, 
Where  the  seas  rolled  in  billows  sublime  ! 

I  was  awed  by  their  grandeur,  and  long-ed  for  a 
calm, 

To  escape  from  such  vengeance  awhile, 
Which  would  give  tomec  jurage,  a  much  needed 

balm, 
And  illume  my  sad  face  with  a  smile. 

Oh  !  I  love  independence,  and  fain  would  I  flg-ht 
Till  I'd  gain  it  and  live  at  my  ease ; 


360  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Then  I'd  sing-  with  a  free  and  untrammell'd  de 
light, 

Just  such  songs  as  my  fancy  would  please. 
If  I  found  out  a  tyrant,  whose  purse-bloated  heart 

Would  be  turned  far  away  from  the  poor, 

I  would  flay  him  until  his  two  eye-balls  would 
start 

From  the  place  where  he  thinks  them  secure. 

There's  a  Siren  now  singing-  a  song  at  my  ear, 

Where  she  sang  it  so  often  before, 
And  I  fain  would  such  soul-stirring  melody  hear, 

Tho'  I  live  its  deceit  to  deplore ; 
Sure  she  sings  me  there's  land  I  will  shortly  enjoy, 

Where  the  flowers  in  fragrance  bloom, 
Where  its  rightful  possessor  will  not  me  annoy, 

Once  he's  called  to  reside  in  the  tomb. 

I  will  surely  inherit  my  forefathers'  soil, 

And  it  lies  underneath  the  green  sod, 
Measures  two  feet  by  six,  the  reward  of  their  toil, 

Which  they  got  as  they  left  for  their  God. 
Can  a  millionaire  boast  of  an  iota  more, 

When  his  spirit  is  summon'd  from  hence  ? 
He's  no  richer  at  death,  tho'  his  coffers  flow  o'er, 

Than  the  man  with  a  few  paltry  pence. 

Mausoleums  rig-ht  over  his  bones  may  arise, 
Obelisks  may  ascend  in  the  air, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  361 

Yes  and  monuments  tower  aloft  in  the  skies, 
Telling1  all  of  the  dead  under  there  ; 

But  the  maggots  will  burrow  right  into  his  bones, 
And  the  moths  at  his  skull  will  grow  fat, 

And  in  time  down  will  tumble  the  richly  carved 

stones, 
Like  the  rim  of  my  last  summer's  hat. 

Heaven  send  me  contentment,  'tis  all  I  will  ask, 

And  great  riches  1  then  can  despise  ; 
Make  a  la.bor  of  love  of  each  burdensome  task, 

Keep  all  troublesome  clouds  from  my  skies. 
I  will  wish  for  no  more,  and  I'll  sing  with  delight, 

Till  the  web  of  my  life  shall  be  spun, 
Till  the  film  of  death  shall  shut  earth  from  my 
sight, 

Ere  the  dawn  of  eternity's  sun. 


AN  EPISTLE  TO  A  FRIEND. 

MR.  JAMKS  CRONLEY. 

Old  friend,  I'm  proud  to  know  that  fame 

Is  circling  'round  your  honor'd  name  ; 

That  Fortune  from  her  treasured  store, 

Has  gifts  to  deal  you  out  galore. 

I  feel  a  friend's  delight  in  all 

The  luck  that  to  your  lot  may  fall. 


3G2  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

To  ev'ry  goal,  by  honor  led, 

You  travel  with  determined  tread. 

No  place,  however  high  you'll  gain, 

But  you'll  through  honest  means  attain  ; 

And  fill  the  trust  with  jealous  care, 

For  those  whose  wisdom  placed  you  there. 

I've  known  you  long,  and  I  revere 

Your  friendship,  which  I  found  sincere. 

The  years  are  rolling  onward  now, 

We've  silver  threads  strew'd  o'er  each  brow ; 

On  life's  rough  sea  we're  half  way  o'er, 

And  nearing  fast  the  farther  shore  ; 

But,  Jim,  our  bark  of  life  may  glide, 

Adown  Time's  steady  ebbing  tide. 

We  yet  perchance  may  meet  with  shocks 

From  breakers,  reefs,  and  sunken  rocks  ; 

But  always  at  the  mast-head  high, 

True  colors  you  will  bravely  fly, 

And  ever  keep  them  there  sincere — 

You  are  no  changeful  privateer — 

But  like  the  line-of-battle  ship, 

Your  cable  you  will  freely  slip, 

To  fight  till  you've  the  prize  in  tow, 

And  never  strike  a  fallen  foe. 

A  trenchant  pen  you  well  can  wield, 

And  in  the  journalistic  field 

You've  nobly  won  deserv'd  applause, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  363 

In  ev'ry  good  and  worthy  cause. 
You're  climbing-  to  the  breezy  height 
Where  I  admire  you  with  delight, 
Because  I  know  you're  tried  and  true, 
And  fame  can  make  no  change  in  you. 
Oh  !  may  your  star  ascendent  rise, 
Until  its  brightness  dim  the  eyes 
Of  those  who  are  with  envy  green, 
Since  o'er  their  heads  'tis  plainly  seen. 
Accept  these  lines  sincerely  penn'd 
From  one  whom  you  have  long  time  kenn'd. 
No  need  to  write  a  sentence  more, 
I'd  but  repeat  things  said  before. 


"NO  SMOKING  ON  DUTY." 

By  your  leave,  my  worthy  masters, 

I've  a  word  or  two  to  say 
Ere  I  step  upon  the  foot-board, 

On  my  toilsome  trip  to-day. 
I  arise  with  humble  bearing 

To  address  the  powers  that  be, 
Who  have  caused  such  tribulation 

To  all  smokers,  such  as  me. 


3G4  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Long1  before  the  beard  of  manhood 

Blest  the  scrutinizing-  stare 
Of  my  many  wistful  glances 

To  detect  a  coming-  hair, 
I  could  whiff  my  granny's  dudeen 

With  as  comical  a  lip 
As  a  passeng-er  conductor 

When  he  takes  his  maiden  trip. 

Those  were  years  now  scarce  remembered 

In  the  dim  and  misty  past, 
And  since  then  my  smoking-  habit 

In  my  nature's  anchored  fast. 
'Twill  be  difficult  to  conquer 

Such  an  appetite  I  fear. 
And  before  my  pipe  is  mastered 

I  will  weep  in  grief  sincere. 

It  has  been  a  loved  companion, 

And  as  cherished  as  my  bride 
When  the  bloom  of  youth  shone  on  her, 

As  she  nestled  at  my  side ; 
And  tho'  now  'tis  black  and  burned, 

'Tis  as  cherished  as  of  yore, 
Like  the  lov'd  one  who's  still  reigning- 

In  my  bosom's  inmost  core. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  365 

In  the  many  revolutions 

We  have  witnessed  on  the  rail, 
It  administered  consolation 

Which  was  never  known  to  fail ; 
And  when  things  were  working-  badly 

On  the  old  mill  we  bestrode, 
It  dispelled,  in  clouds  of  incense, 

All  the  troubles  of  the  road. 


When  the  pay  car  seemed  to  loiter, 

It  grew  wheezy,  rank  and  strong ; 
As  if  something  surely  whispered 

That  affairs  were  going  wrong. 
But  when  once  I'd  sign  the  pay-roll 

'Twas  transformed  to  delight ; 
Like  an  old  maid's  face  when  beaming 

On  the  long-sought  wedding  night. 

But  messieurs,  you  are  the  masters, 

And,  of  course,  you  have  the  brains, 
While  the  nerves  old  Nature  gave  us, 

To  successful  run  the  trains  ; 
So  we  yield  you  strict  obedience, 

No  infraction  shall  you  find, 
From  to-day  henceforth  no  smoking 

When  oil  duty — in  my  mind. 


366  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

COME,   BOYS,   FILL  YOUR  GLASSES. 

Come,  boys,  fill  your  glasses,  and  pledge  me  to 
night, 

To  the  hopes  which  we  sigh  for,  each  long  sought 

delight. 

Let  the  nectar  run  freely,  the  liquid  o'erflow, 
We  will  drink  to  the  dregs  ere  we  rise,  boys,  to  go. 
Here's  success  to  the  standard  that's  gloriously 

seen 

On  the  field  where  the  foemen  retreat  from  the 

green ! 
Where  the  chains  of  oppression,  which  bound  us 

so  long, 
Shall  be  sunder'd  by  freemen  who  right  every 

wrong. 

During  centuries  Slavery's  curse  on  the  land, 
Kept  us  bound  in  her  shackles,closetied  was  each 

hand ; 

In  our  councils  divided,  we  struggled  in  vain  ; 
We  were  conquer'd  and  beaten  again  and  again  ; 
But  the  clouds  of  dissension  are  drifting  away, 
And  the  sun  o'er  the  hill-tops  of  freedom's  fair 

day 

Is  most  surely  ascending,  its  beams  we  can  tell ; 
And  our  armies  are  marching  with  statesman 

Parnell, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  367 

Our  dear  forefathers    bore  every  brunt  of  the 

fray; 
And  their  mail-clad  opponents  they  oft  drove 

away ; 

Many  fields  can  attest  what  their  valor  has  won, 
When  each  one  had  a  pike,  and  each  foeman  a 

gun; 

'Gainst  the  science  of  war  and  artillery's  roar 
They  would  charge  till  they'd  sink  into  rivers  of 

gore ; 
Till  the  plain  would  be  strewed  with  the  dying 

and  dead, 
And  the  green  flag-  be  floating- hig-h  over  the  red  ! 

Now  in  our  day  the  battle  once  more  is  renewed. 
We  will  fig-lit  till  the  last  haug-hty  foe  is  subdued. 
All  our  weapons  are  modern  instruments  made  ; 
To  be  used  in  the  senate,  where  parties  arrayed, 
Will  be  sure  to  respect  us,  and  hearken  to  those 
Who  are  flaunting-  the  green  in  the  face  of  their 
foes; 

So,  my  boys,  fill  each  glass,  let  us  drink  with  the 

yell 
Of  our  fierce  *faugh-a-ballagh  for  statesman  Par- 

nell! 

*Clear  the  way. 


368  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

THE   FIRST  GRAY   HAIR. 

They  are  coming,  boys,  they're  coming ; 

I  discovered  one  to-day ; 
"Pis  a  tawny  looking-  stranger, 

And  I  fear  it  comes  to  stay ; 
On  my  upper  lip,  disgusted, 

I  espied  youth's  dreaded  foe, 
In  the  spot  the  ladies  lingered, 

When  they  kissed  me  long  ago  ! 

'Tis  a  signal  on  life's  railroad, 

Like  the  caution  flags  we  spy, 
When  the  trackmen  fear  fast  running 

May  displace  a  rail  or  tie  ; 
And  it  tells  in  tones  of  warning 

That  old  Time  is  jogging  on 
To  the  great,  unknown  hereafter, 

Where  earth's  multitudes  have  gone. 

'Tis  a  mystery  what  brought  it ; 

I  am  not  so  very  old ; 
Scarcely  in  the  "  roaring  forties." 

I  suppose  the  heat  and  cold 
Of  our  slavish  occupation, 

At  all  seasons  of  the  year, 
Hurried  on  the  grinning  rascal 

That  comes  prematurely  here. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  369 

Or  perhaps  it  comes  from  watching 

Too  intently  at  the  gauge, 
When  the  pointer  travels  backward 

And  each  moment  seems  an  age, 
Trying  hard  to  make  a  meeting 

With  the  "flyer,"  nearly  due, 
As  the  water  in  a  torrent 

Courses  out  of  every  flue. 

There's  another  cause  suspected, 

Which  I'll  tell  in  sober  sooth  : 
I  was  somewhat  of  an  angel 

In  the  halcyon  days  of  youth  ! 
And  I  lingered  in  the  temple, 

Where  I  prayed  and  fasted  long, 
Laying  treasures  up  in  heaven 

And  avoiding  doing  wrong. 

But  where'er  it  came  from,  surely 

It  is  here  upon  my  lip, 
In  the  place  the  sirens  dallied 

All  those  honied  joys  to  sip, 
That  have  ravished  soul  and  senses 

With  such  keen,  ecstatic  bliss, 
Many  twilights  spent  in  rapture, 

Tasting  beauty's  luscious  kiss  ! 

24 


370  SHANDY  MAGUIKE. 

Oh,  dear  Ponce  de  Leon,  tell  me, 

From  your  dwelling-  in  the  sky, 
Where's  the  fountain  which  you  sought  for  ? 

Are  its  waters  sealed  or  dry  ? 
If  your  search  was  not  rewarded 

When  in  life  you  sought  its  brink, 
Now  perhaps  your  clearer  vision 

Can  direct  me  where  to  drink. 

I  will  lave  upon  its  bosom 

Till. the  wine  of  life  shall  course 
Through  my  heart  and  brain  delighted, 

In  its  glorious,  youthful  force, 
Till  all  ills  and  aches  shall  vanish, 

And  the  clouds  of  care  roll  by, 
Till  the  sun  shall  shine  resplendent 

From  a  clear,  ethereal  sky. 

I  am  but  a  simple  rhymer, 

Yet  I  have  a  poet's  heart, 
And,  if  words  would  come  for  calling-, 

I'd  a  lesson  here  impart 
To  all  coming  generations, 

Calling  loudly  to  beware 
Of  those  heart-regrets  to  haunt  them, 

When  they  spy  the  first  gray  hair. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  371 

THANKS  FOR  A  CHRISTMAS  TURKEY. 

To  W.  B.  PHELPS. 

DEAR  SIR  : — My  humble  thanks  I  send 

To  you,  my  much  esteemed,  old  friend, 

Who  did  my  appetite  allay, 

With  turkey  roast  this  Christinas  day. 

Indeed  he  was  a  royal  bird, 

As  e'er  amongst  his  kind  was  heard 

With  gobble,  strut  and  chuckle  loud, 

The  king  of  all  the  feathered  crowd, 

His  flesh  was  juicy,  tender,  sweet, 

And  brittle,  so  a  babe  could  eat. 

When  I  beheld  him  cooked  and  browned, 

With  smiling  faces  seated  round 

The  festive  board,  I  felt  the  thrill 

Of  gratitude,  carousing  still, 

Within  my  thankful  breast ; 
With  knife  and  fork  I  carved  him  quick, 
I  severed  ev'ry  steak  as  slick 
As  though  a  surgeon's  scalpel,  keen, 
Flashed  thro'  his  parts,  both  fat  and  lean, 

Then  dined  with  eager  zest. 

Of  all  the  days  throughout  the  year 
To  bring  us  hope,  our  hearts  to  cheer, 
To-day  stands  first,  for  friends  unite, 
In  festive  mirth  and  pure  delight. 


372  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  when  the  wassail  bowl  is  full, 
The  brain  must  be  extremely  dull 
That  will  not  soar  above  the  ground 
To  heights  where  social  joy  is  found. 
No  monarch,  on  his  throne  of  state, 
Surrounded  by  the  rich  and  great,  . 
Could  look  with  hautier  disdain 
On  all  the  ills  in  sorrow's  train 
Than  I,  when  e'er  the  flowing-  glass 
From  friend  to  friend  would  freely  pass, 

With  fellowship  of  song- ; 
It  can  inspire  the  dullest  clod 
That  ever  groveled  on  the  sod, 
And  make  him  feel  himself  a  king, 
With  fancies  floating  on  the  wing, 

Through  airy  heights  along. 

But  here  I  am,  a  noted  foe 

To  Bacchus,  and  the  ruddy  glow 

Of  sparkling  wine,  which  bubbles  bright, 

Around  the  board  on  Christmas  night. 

Yet  mem'ries  of  the  olden  time 

Will  float  and  mingle  in  my  rhyme, 

Until  I  feel  a  dancing  train 

Of  gleesome  fancies  in  my  brain. 

Perhaps  your  king  of  table  fowl 

Dispelled  Time's  sable,  monkish  cowl, 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  373 

And  let  the  glow  of  pleasure  glide 
Around  my  heart's  quiescent  tide, 
Until  the  years  rolled  with  me  back 
To  youth's  delightful,  festive  track, 

And  changed  me  to  a  boy. 
Let  moralists,  in  sober  sooth, 
Condemn  the  primrose  path  of  youth  ; 
I'd  rather  know  I  laughed  at  care 
With  hearthy,  boon  companions  there, 

Than  not  have  known  it's  joy. 

I'm  one  amongst  the  very  few 
Who've  seen  the  good  you  slyly  do ; 
For,  like  a  thief  disguised  you  steal, 
Distributing  to  other's  weal. 
Your  generous  heart  would  fain  embrace 
Within  its  bounds  the  human  race  ; 
You  preach  a  universal  creed, 
And  practice  it  in  word  and  deed, 
'You'll  cling  to  friends  through  good  and  ill, 
And  be  their  benefactor  still. 
It  matters  not  where'er  the  clime 
They  first  stepped  on  the  stage  of  time, 
Or  if  their  skin  be  black  as  night, 
Or  olive,  or  Caucassian  white, 
To  you  it  is  the  same. 
The  friendly  heart  and  hand  are  there, 


374  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

To  deal  them  out,  as  free  as  air, 
Remembrances  of  kindness  dear, 
And  this  is  why  we  all  revere 

Your  noble,  honored  name. 

God  bless  the  good  old  Christmas  time, 

I  truly  pray,  in  simple  rhyme  ! 

And  bless  the  kindness  which  bestowed 

The  thoughtful  gift  on  my  abode  ; 

And  bless  the  day  when  tables  groan 

With  plenty,  on  this  changeful  zone. 

And  may  the  years,  with  tardy  tread, 

Pass  captivating  o'er  your  head. 

And  when  from  hence  you're  called  away, 

May  Hope's  illuminating  ray 

Assist  your  footsteps  to  explore 

The  pathway  to  the  other  shore ; 

But,  sure  as  are  the  Scripture's  just, 

You  may  go  mingle  with  the  dust, 

With  heavenly  joys  in  view  ; 
I'll  cheerfully  submit  to  Fate, 
If  in  that  certain,  future  state, 
I'll  pass  the  dreadful  muster  roll, 
Of  Him  who'll  judge  my  sinful  soul, 

Successfully  as  you. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  375 

FOOT-BOARD  REFLECTIONS. 

'Mid  the  sweltering-  rays  of  the  mid-day  sun 

I  am  here  in  the  cab,  while  on  flying-  wheels 
I  must  make  my  long-  and  my  tedious  run, 

Ere  the  lengthened  ray  of  the  evening  steals 
Down  o'er  the  track  with  its  cooling  shade, 

To  soothe  the  nerves  that  I  oft  must  strain, 
And  I  sig-h  as  I  think  of  the  leafy  glade 

Where  the  rich  are  bound  who  are  on  the  train. 

Ah,  yes,  they  are  off  to  their  cool  retreats, 

To  their  wealthy  homes  by  the  sounding  sea, 
Where  their  fare  consists  of  the  choicest  meats, 

With  vintage  rare  as  rich  wines  can  be  ; 
Where  Fortune  deals  from  her  lavish  hand 

The  luckiest  cards  within  her  pack, 
And  woos  them  along  with  smiling  bland, 

Till  the  autumn  breezes  drive  them  back. 

What  wonder  at  all  if  I  ponder  o'er 

The  thousand  ills  of  the  luckless  poor. 
Who  must  toil  'mid  the  smoke  and  ceaseless  roar 

Of  the  daily  load  which  our  frames  endure  ? 
And  our  fare  consists  of  a  crust  of  bread, 

To  be  moistened  oft  amid  falling  tears, 
Ere  we  sink  to  rest  on  a  thorny  bed, 

For  a  few  short  hours  till  the  dawn  appears. 


376  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

God  pity  us  all  on  the  road  of  life, 

We  need  His  help  to  prolong1  the  fight 
We  are  forced  to  make  in  the  daily  strife, 

As  we  humbly  plod  on  our  path  of  right ; 
And  if  by  a  step  we  pass  its  bounds, 

What  a  cry  is  raised  by  the  heartless  throng, 
Who  unleash  their  pack  of  bloodthirsty  hounds 

To  disjoint  our  bones  for  a  simple  wrong. 

A  flowery  path  o'er  life's  highway,  sure, 

The  rich  ones  find  who  inherit  wealth ; 
They  may  glide  amid  gilded  crime  secure 

In  the  sun's  bright  ray  or  in  midnight  stealth  ; 
But  the  poor  man  toils  like  the  veriest  slave, 

At  his  daily  task,  in  all  sorts  of  weather, 
On  his  lowly  road  which  ends  at  the  grave, 

To  keep  his  body  and  soul  together. 

Sweet  hope  is  unsubstantial  food, 

But  for  it  where  would  we  be  to-day  ? 
Discouraging  thoughts  that  dare  intrude, 

Are  by  its  influence  driven  away. 
The  crooks  and  thorns  we  daily  meet 

Along  the  route  we  are  forced  to  tread, 
May  lead  in  a  year. to  some  cool  retreat, 

Where  we'll  lie  at  ease  on  a  downy  bed. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  377 

YOUR  OWN  NATIVE  TOWN. 

From  the  moment  your  feet  press  the  earth  to 

begin 
Your  rough  march  to  the  grave,  in  this  world's 

gTeat  din, 
You  will  find  many  stumbling-  blocks  thrown  in 

your  way, 

And  your  armor  will  often  be  pierced  in  the  fray. 
It  will  take  all  your  skill  to  avoid  the  rude  shocks 

You  will  meet  on  the  road  against  venomous 

rocks, 

But  the  rudest  of  all  you  encounter  will  frown 
From  the  ape-featured  crew  in  your  own  native 

town. 

You  may  have  in  your  bosom  a  heart  beating- true 
With  ennoblingintentions, but  they '11  misconstrue 
Every  effort  you'll  make,  as  you  labor  for  rig-ht, 
And  they'll  poison  the  air  worse  than  vapors  of 

night ; 

They  will  fling  their  insidious  stabs  at  your  back, 
Just  like  cowardly  assassins,the  rancorous  pack  ; 
They  will  scoff  and  deride  you  and  kick  you  when 

down 
With  unmerciful  ire,  in  your  own  darling  town. 

If  you'll  pause  and  reflect  you  will  easily  note 
How  those  dear  ones  can  tell  ev'ry  patch  on  your 
coat ; 


378  SHANDY  MAGUIEE. 

Where  the  meagre  purse  presses,  how  bills  are 

unpaid ; 
How  your  creditors  claim  you  take  profit  from 

trade ; 
How  your  face,  though  with  honesty  stamped,  is 

a  mask ; 

How  your  labors  of  love  are  a  burdensome  task  ; 
All  the  good  you've  erected  will  soon  be  pulled 

down, 
By  the  midge-hearted  clan,  in  your  own  native 

town. 

When  you're  weighed  you're  found  wanting, 

they'll  burden  the  scales 
With  foul  hints,  told  suspicious,  rank,  gossiping 

tales. 
Sure  they  fancy  mankind  all  have  hearts  like  their 

own, 
It  is  thus  you  are  gauged,  and  your  bosom  must 

moan. 
If  you  clamber  above  them,  and  heed  what  they 

say, 

You  will  soon  be  unnerved, and  unfit  for  the  fray  ; 
But  if  brave  and  determined,  by  heaven,  each 

clown 
May  assail  you  in  vain  in  your  own  darling  town  ! 

If  you've  tact,  and  ambition,  and  brains  you  can 
rise 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  379 

From  their  level  with  ease,  and  get  nearer  the 

skies ; 

If  you've  nerve  for  the  hattle,a  heart  for  the  strife, 
You  will  surely  succeed  on  the  highway  of  life  ; 
If  you've  genius,  tho'  humble,  men  mention  your 

name, 

And  it  gives  you  a  pull  at  the  goblet  of  fame. 
You  will  float  where  your  filthy  detractors  will 

drown, 
And  you'll  win  some  applause  in  your  own  native 

town. 

Let  the  buzzards  and  owls  croak  in  envious  mood, 
There  is  joy  on  the  wing  as  you  fly  from  the  brood ; 
They  are  powerless  to  follow,  you  laugh  at  the 

fun  ; 
Their  attacks  are  like  boys  throwing  stones  at  the 

sun. 
Every  man  has  a  mission,  fill  yours  while  you 

may, 

And  if  guided  by  honor,  you'll  bask  in  the  ray 
That  will  shine  in  effulgence,  and  lead  to  renown, 
And  defeat  of  your  foes  in  your  own  native  town. 


380  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

TO  MISS  ELLA  LEWIS. 

A  PASSENGER  WHO  ASSISTED  IN  RESCUING  AN  ENGINEER  FROM  UNDER 
His  WRECKED  ENGINE. 

Were  mine  the  pen  to  flash  the  fire 

Of  brilliant  thoughts  these  lines  along-, 
Or  wake  the  grand,  heroic  lyre, 

In  strains  of  rich,  melodious  song  ; 
I'd  sing  your  noble  deeds  on  high, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  fleeting  fame, 
Until  my  voice  would  reach  the  sky, 

To  eulogize  your  laurelled  name. 

Oh,  lady  !  'tis  such  acts  can  shine 

And  brighten  up  this  vale  of  tears, 
When  gentle  hands  and  hearts  combine 

To  soothe  poor  suff'ring  engineers. 
We  stand  the  first  to  meet  the  crash ; 

Our  duty  is  to  save  the  train, 
And  oft  with  speed  of  lightning's  flash 

We're  crushed, dismember'd, scorched  or  slain. 

In  silken  robes,  with  jewels  bright, 

And  both  your  lovely  arms  bare, 
You  stood  beside  poor,  dying  Knight, 

And  proved  a  minist'ring  angel  there. 
The  fleeting  spark  of  life  37ou  fanned, 

Until  you  felt  reviving  breath  ; 


SHANDY   MAGUIRB.  381 

It  was  your  gentle,  skillful  hand 

That  rescued  him  from  painful  death. 

Kipe,  luscious  fruit  you  kindly  send, 

The  choicest  flowers  deck  his  room, 
Tho'  distant,  still  you  prove  his  friend, 

And  waft  around  him  sweet  perfume. 
The  Shelley s  and  the  Nightingales 

Of  lasting  fame,  you'll  stand  beside, 
Who  can  assuage  the  human  wails 

They  hear  upon  life's  stormy  tide. 

He's  lying-  now  with  broken  bones, 

And  reason  gone,  within  his  cot ; 
Unheard  are  wife's  and  children's  moans, 

The  past,  the  present,  all  forgot. 
If  back  to  Reason's  throne  once  more 

His  mind  returns  and  pauses  there, 
From  out  his  brave  heart's  inmost  core, 

He'll  bless  you  with  a  hero's  prayer. 

If  death  makes  all  your  efforts  vain, 
And  ends  the  life  you  sought  to  save, 

The  engineer  of  every  train 

Who'll  stand  above  his  lowly  grave 

Shall  testify  in  grand  acclaim, 
And  echo  shall  prolong  the  notes, 


382  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Till  tributes  to  your  honored  name 
Arise  from  twenty  thousand  throats  ! 

May  life  be  one  continued  round 

Of  joyful  scenes,  'mid  prospects  fair, 
To  you,  whose  brow  is  laurel  crowned, 

We  cry  in  earnest,  heartfelt  prayer. 
And  when  eternal  dawn  is  nigh, 

As  you  did  here  to  others  do, 
May  He  who  rules  beyond  the  sky, 

Dear  lady,  do  the  same  to  you. 


NEURALGIA. 

Each  vein  is  full  of  liquid  fire, 
And  every  nerve  in  vengeful  ire 
Keeps  bounding  with  a  keen  desire 

To  kill  me  quick ; 
I  cannot  get  a  moment's  rest ; 
My  very  vitals  are  distrest ; 
My  patience  gets  a  painful  test. 

Oh,  Lord,  I'm  sick  ! 

If  every  ill  the  flesh  can  feel 
Combined  to  make  my  senses  reel, 
Neuralgia,  you  are  just  the  chiel 
To  beat  them  all ; 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  383 

You're  thumping-  me  with  mighty  blows, 
You  pound  me  from  my  head  to  toes ; 
The  tears  now  coursing"  down  my  nose 
Like  rivers  fall. 

My  eyes  oft  from  their  sockets  start, 
My  teeth  seem  pulling-  all  apart, 
There  is  a  feeling-  round  my  heart 

I  can't  describe ; 

My  curse  upon  yourself  and  kin — 
But  if  at  cursing- 1  begin 
'Twill  last  till  hell  I  plunge  you  in, 

And  all  your  tribe. 


TO  ALDERMAN   BENZ,   OSWEjGO,   N.  Y. 

My  dear  Alderman  Benz,  it  surprised  me  to  note, 
How  a  man  of  your  standing,  good  judgment 

and  tact, 
Should  be  found  with  your  fingers  clutched  into 

the  throat 

Of  all  roads,  if  the  council  endorses  your  act. 
'Tis  a  sleepy  old  gait  for  an  engine  to  run, 
And  you  know  in  your  heart  every  railroader 

here 

Does  the  best  that  he  can  all  those  mishaps  to  shun 
That  are  put  to  the  charge  of  the  poor  engineer. 


384  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

'Twill  drive  enterprise  out  of  this   tax-ridden 

place ; 

And  we  ha ven'ta  surplus  to  boast  of  you,  know ; 
In  the  summer  time  grass  on  our  streets  you  can 

trace, 
And  in  winter  huge  hummocks  of  unsullied 

snow. 

Manufacturers  never  were  lured  by  the  bait 
Of  "our  splendid  location  for  business,"  be 
cause 

On  account  of  high  taxes  they  will  not  locate, 
And,  besides,  they've  a  dread  of  our  iron- 
bound  laws. 

When  the  Welland  canal  was  enlarged  we  sup 
posed 
That  big  fleets  from  the  west  at  our  wharves 

would  be  seen ; 

But,  alas !  from  that  time  until  now  we  reposed 
Undisturbed  by  increase  of  our  merchant  ma 
rine. 
Elevators  are  sinking-  to  speedy  decay, 

Where  the  rats  and  the  sparrows  their  timbers 

devour ; 

Soon  the  railroads  will  go  just  the  very  same  way, 
If  3^011  limit  our  speed  down  to  four  miles  an 
hour. 

Samuel  Sloan,  with  his  well  equipped  roads,  has 
done  more 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  385 

For  Oswego  than  all  the  canals  in  the  land  ; 
Go  with  Corporal  Phelps  down  about  the  lake 
shore, 

Where  he'll  point  to  the  proof  with  his  figures 

in  hand  ; 

Ever}7  month  as  the  paymaster  goes  on  his  trip, 
'Tis  United  States  coin  which  his  wallet  contains; 
It  will  purchase  more  flour  and  potatoes  than 
scrip 

For  the  men  who  must  toil  with  their  sinews 
and  brains. 

Now  reflect  on  the  foregoing  facts  which  I  give 
To  you  here  in  this  paper  in  shape  of  a  song ; 
Let  us  foster  the  railroads  and  help  them  to  live, 
Which  they  will,  if  with  prudence  we  help  them 

along. 

As  a  city  official  you've  always  been  found 
On  the  side  where  you  wielded  good  sensible 

power ; 

Do  not  mar  your  past  record  by  girding  us  'round 
With  a  mud  turtle  movement  of  four  miles  an 
-     hour. 


25 


386  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

DOUBTS  AND  TRUTHS. 

Off  to  church  I  went  last  Sunday 

In  a  rather  gloomy  mood, 
I  am  not  a  firm  believer, 

And  I  seldom  there  intrude, 
Yet  I  like  to  hear  a  sermon 

Where  impassioned  words  do  play 
In  an  eloquent  connection, 

Be  the  subject  what  it  may. 
But  the  speaker,  to  affect  me, 

Must  be  pious  and  sincere, 
And  stand  forth  a  true  example 

Of  the  words  which  strike  my  ear; 
For  I  look  behind  the  subject, 

And  I  closely  view  the  man, 
As  I'm  doing-  here  at  present. 

This  is  how  the  sermon  ran  : 
"From  the  mountains  and  the  valleys, 

From  the  deserts,  and  each  plain, 
From  the  seas,  the  lakes  and  oceans, 

There  shall  march  a  countless  train, 
(  From  the  birth  of  time  they'll  rally 

To  the  trumpet's  clarion  call, 
As  it  thunders  o'er  the  world  : 

'Come  to  judgment  one  and  all.' 
How  the  guilty  wretch  shall  totter 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  387 

In  the  deepest  of  dismay  !  " 
It  was  thus  a  theologian 

Preached  so  eloquent  that  day, 
And  I  thought  as  he  expounded 

Texts  of  Scripture  so  devout 
He  is  sure  to  be  an  angel 

When  the  dead  shall  get  the  rout, 
And  to  glory  everlasting 

He  can  see  his  title  clear ; 
If  he  can,  dear  sinful  reader, 

You  and  I  need  never  fear. 
I  have  heard  of  reverend  ranters 

Who  could  point  us  out  the  road, 
Where  the  gauge  is  rather  narrow 

Leading  to  that  blest  abode. 
Ah  !  how  fluently  they  tell  us 

Of  the  joys  beyond  the  grave 
And  what  sacrifices  daily 

We  should  make,  our  souls  to  save ; 
But  when  Death  would  hover  near  them 

Some  physician  would  be  called, 
To  exert  his  skill  and  save  them, 

As  they'd  writhe  in  fear  appalled ; 
How  they  dread  to  go  to  glory 

That  they've  preached  about  for  years, 
And  they  die  like  craven  cowards, 

'Tis  not  so  with  engineers. 


388  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

There  are  hundreds  of  exceptions 

To  that  class  of  hair-brained  fools, 
Who  are  pious  theologians, 

Who  were  taught  in  lib'ral  schools ; 
And  they  lead  their  congregations 

Up  Mount  Pisgahs  of  the  earth, 
'Till  the  glorious  Land  of  Promise 

Dawns  in  full,  celestial  birth  ! 
To  no  sect  nor  creed  they're  wedded, 

To  no  dogmas  bound  in  chains ; 
But  upon  broad  Christian  tenets 

They  employ  prolific  brains ; 
I  respect  them,  they  are  sages, 

And  I'll  follow  where  they  tread : 
All  my  caustic  written  notions 

Have  been  pointed  at  each  head 
Of  the  hypocritic  swaddlers, 

Who  enjoy  this  life  below, 
And  keep  preaching  of  the  future 

Where  they  ne'er  expect  to  go. 
If  to  live  in  full  and  plenty, 

And  to  sleep  on  beds  of  down, 
Is  the  trunk-line  up  to  Heaven 

They  are  sure  of  glory's  crown. 
If  to  toil  with  brain  and  sinew 

'Till  the  heart-strings  nearly  crack, 
Running  daily  on  an  engine, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  389 

Over  old  and  worn-out  track  ; 
When  the  driving-springs  are  flattened, 

And  the  pistons  blowing-  strong1, 
And  the  flues  are  leaking-  badly, 

And  the  valves  are  beating-  wrong, 
And  the  pumps  are  out  of  order, 

And  the  boxes  full  of  smoke, 
And  the  rods  all  thumping  loudly, 

Every  time  she  makes  a  stroke — 
If  such  things  torment  us  daily 

While  on  earth  in  grief  we  dwell, 
I  have  hopes,  dear,  patient  reader, 

That  we'll  not  be  switched  for  hell. 

In  the  foremost  ranks  of  danger, 

We  are  daily  forced  to  tread  ; 
And  our  firemen  stand  beside  us, 

As  we  battle  for  our  bread  ; 
We  ne'er  shirk  the  post  of  duty, 

Altho'  Death  keeps  closely  by, 
For,  full  conscious  of  our  peril, 

We  can  resolutely  die. 
I  disclaim  all  idle  boasting 

We  have  heros  in  the  tomb, 
Whom  the  public  know  were  martyrs, 

Ere  their  youth  had  lost  its  bloom. 
Show  me  'mone-st  the  ranks  of  labor 


390  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Such  a  roll-call  of  the  brave, 
As  the  engineers  and  firemen 
Who  sleep  in  the  hero's  grave  ! 

Hark  !  I  hear  the  "caller  "  coming 
And  the  crimson  streaks  of  day, 

Shooting-  up  athwart  the  heavens, 
Tell  'tis  time  to  g-o  away. 


TO  THE  REV.   F.   H.   BECK. 

WRITTEN  AFTER  READING  HIS  POEM  ox  THE  "  BOOK  AGENT." 

Reverend  Sir : 

'Twill  surprise  you  these  lines  to  peruse, 

Which  I  wrote  after  reading-  the  song-  of  your 

Muse. 
What  a  tormenting-  time  the  book  agent  should 

come, 

As  you  studied  your  sermon  alone  in  your  room. 
Oh !  I  thought :  were  I  there  in  that  clergyman's 

place 
I  would  hammer  some  texts  on  the  book  agent's 

face, 

Which  the  public  could  read  for  the  good  of  man 
kind 

From  the  "Last  Publication,"  more  fierce  than 
refined . 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  391 

Take  the  man  who  has  patience  sufficient  to  hear 
A  giib  canvasser's  tongue,  as  it  wags  at  his  ear. 
He  may  truly  lay  claim  to  salvation  and.  say, 
"Sure  the  Lord  in  His  mercy  has  tried  me  to-day ; 
For  He  sent  me  a  tempter  like  Satan  of  yore, 
In  the  guise  of  a  man  with  a  plentiful  store 
Of  persuasion,  and.  I  kept  my  patience  secure 
'Till  "I  bowed  out"  the  tempter  away  from  my 
door." 

Well,  the  "he-ones"  are  had  when  they  come 

with  their  books, 

But  the  "she-devil's"  worse  with  her  man-kill 
ing  looks, 
With  her  smirks  and  her  smiles,  and  her  artful 

complaints ; 
And  a  tale  made  to  draw  forth  compassion  from 

saints, 
With  her  wiles  stealing  'round,  sweet  as  May- 

mprning  dew, 
Or  those  spice  gales  that  blow  in  the  vales  of 

Peru; 

It  is  then  you  require  a  "John  Sullivan  "  blow 
That  shall  drive  her  away  with  a  thundering 

"No!" 

There  are  many  things  "tucked  by  translators" 

in  creeds, 
But  the  man  who  can  list  to  a  book  agent's  needs 


392  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

For  an  hour,  and  not  kick  him  out  into  the  street, 
Is  a  canonized  saint  from  his  head  to  his  feet ; 
Oh,  I  hope  you  are  such,  and  I  love  to  peruse 
Every  flash  from  the  pen  of  your  eloquent  Muse. 
And  I  hope  you  will  not  deem  my  freedom  a 

crime, 
When  I  greet  you,  dear  sir,  as  a  brother  in  rhyme. 


A  SONG   FOR  THE  BOYS. 

I'm  afflicted  with  ills  of  the  flesh,  boys, 

And  I'll  share  my  misfortune  with  you  ; 
They  are  stripes  from  humanity's  lash,  boys, 

Only  shunned  by  the  virtuous  few. 
Saints  are  scarce  on  the  railroad  to-day,  boys, 

From  the  president  down  to  the  chap 
Who  is  flagging-  for  very  poor  pay,  boys, 

With  his  hair  sticking-  out  through  his  cap. 

I've  a  rheumatic  twing-e  in  my  toes,  boys, 

And  a  kink  in  the  small  of  my  back ; 
They  are  sure  to  disturb  my  repose,  boys, 

When  in  bed  or  when  out  on  the  track. 
I  have  feasted  on  quail  and  on  toast,  boys, 

From  my  grub-bucket  daily  for  years  ; 
Sure  I  don't  know  of  men  who  can  boast,  boys, 

Of  such  feeding  unless  engineers. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  393 

Our  conductors  have  napkins  and  rings,  boys, 

Silver  knives,   forks  and  spoons,  and  choice 

plate ; 
Sure  we  scoff  at  such  fanciful  things,  boys, 

As  we  dine  on  our  engines  in  state. 
With  our  fingers  and  thumbs  we  can  throw,  boys, 

A  square  meal  down  our  throats  pretty  quick, 
It  was  thus  Adam  feasted,  you  know,  boys, 

Before  Eve  made  a  "mash"  on  old  Nick. 

Of  high  living  I'd  have  you  keep  clear,  boys, 

It  is  loaded  with  numerous  ills  ; 
And  besides,  shun  the  schooner  of  beer,  boys, 

Yes,  and  worm-juice  flowing  through  stills. 
They  are  stumbling  blocks  spread  for  your  feet, 
boys, 

Like  the  smiles  of  a  widow  through  tears, 
Every  one  of  them  full  of  deceit,  boys, 

And  a  trap  to  catch  poor  engineers. 

I  intended  a  moral  to  write,  boys, 

'Till  the  widows  ran  into  my  head, 
So  I  think  I'll  set  brakes  for  to-night,  boys, 

And  retire  to  my  virtuous  bed. 
Ere  the  morrow's  bright  sun  shall  arise,  boys, 

I  must  up  and  have  at  it  again, 
For,  no  matter  how  stormy  the  skies,  boys, 

I'll  be  called  to  depart  with  my  train. 


394  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

WRITTEN  UNDERA  PHOTOGRAPHIC  GROUP. 
Ye  Gods  !  behold  this  handsome  crowd 
So  self-conceited,  vain  and  proud, 
Who  pose  before  the  artist's  eye 
Beneath  a  gray,  October  sky  I 
They're  frizzed,  and  combed,  in  Sunday  style, 
While  some  men  frown  and  others  smile. 
But  Nagle's  photographic  art 
Shall  beauty  to  each  face  impart. 

He  tries  to  get  them  in  repose, 
He  twists  each  chin,  surveys  each  nose, 
Until  he  has  the  "  awkward  squad  " 
All  grouped  upon  the  verdant  sod. 
And,  now,  as  each  one  looks  so  grand, 
When  polished  by  some  barber's  hand, 
I'll  take  a  pencil  picture,  too, 
Of  ev'ry  face  I  see  in  view. 

See  Rowan,  on  the  left  who  sits, 

To  flank  the  crowd  of  sports  and  wits, 

And  at  his  side  I  plainly  trace 

The  handsome  phiz  of  Patrick  Grace. 

See  honest  Paddy  sitting"  there 

With  grizzled  beard  and  unkempt  hair. 

The  next  is  P.  F.  Johnson's  form, 

Whom  all  admire  with  feelings  warm. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  395 

Bob  Gettings,  from  the  barber's  hand, 
Looks  sleek,  and  smooth,  with  features  bland, 
And  at  his  side  the  piercing-  eye 
Of  Dennis  Connelly  I  spy. 
"  Judge  "  Glynn  behold,  he  sits  at  ease, 
The  artist's  glance  he's  sure  to  please. 
See  Crawford,  self-possessed  and  proud, 
The  valiant  "jumbo  "  of  the  crowd. 

Sweet  William  Grant  your  head  hold  down, 

Do  not  on  old  companions  frown. 

Brave  Gill,  who  never  missed  a  fight 

In  Union  wars,  is  on  your  right. 

Note  Tim  McCarthy  in  life's  prime 

Near  Fennell,  author  of  this  rhyme. 

See  Dorsey,  too,  the  ladies'  joy, 

A  good,  straight-forward,  handsome  boy. 

Behold  Omelia  standing  there, 

Behind  Commiss'ner  Grace's  chair. 

See  Hanley  from  the  Second  ward 

Whose  head  with  good  sound  sense  is  stored. 

There's  Chris,  an  angel  in  disguise, 

Whose  look  expresses  pain'd  surprise. 

Jack  Sculley's  last,  he  bears  his  weight 

On  Grant,  which  makes  him  stand  so  straight. 


56  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Well,  here  we  are,  and  seventeen 

More  jovial  lads  were  seldom  seen ; 

All  cast  in  Nature's  stalwart  mold, 

And  prized  for  strength  far  more  than  gold. 

Upon  the  rugged  road  of  life 

We  win  our  bread,  'mid  toil  and  strife, 

And  thankful  all  for  robust  health, 

Which  is  our  only  source  of  wealth. 

Perhaps  my  boys,  in  after  years, 

When  Time  shall  change  our  smiles  to  tears, 

When  we'll  be  wrinkled,  old  and  gray, 

These  pictures  shall  recall  the  day 

We  met,  in  manhood's  strength  and  pride, 

With  joke  and  jest,  on  ev'ry  side, 

To  let  the  artist  group  us  all, 

Outside  Oswego's  City  Hall. 


SOME  TRUTH   IN   RHYME. 

While  perusing  the  papers  last  evening,  I  read 
Of  a  deeply  laid  plan  to  deprive  men  of  bread  ; 
'Tis  ingenious  indeed,  I  must  freely  confess, 
And  may  make  by  perversion  a  deal  of  distress 
'Mongst  the  ranks  of  the  toilers  all  over  the  land  ; 
If  their  tongues  run  unguarded,  their  doom  is  at 
hand. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  397 

I  supposed  that  by  blacklisting-  those  who  rebel, 
Was  a  torture  on  earth  to  prepare  men  for  hell. 


More  refined  in  their  cruelty  daily  they  grow ; 
With  their  scorpion  whips  they  afflict  men  with 

woe, 

In  the  shape  of  detectives  to  follow  them  round, 
So  their  masters  may  know  where  disturbers  are 

found. 
In  the  lodge  room  they'll  mingle  and  talk  with 

the  boys, 

And  by  oily  persuasion  enlarge  on  those  joys 
To  be  had  for  the  seeking,  beyond  their  desires ; 
Then  betray  them    like    erstwhile    the   Mollie 

Maguires. 

If  such  tactics  increase  with  the  growth  of  the 

years, 

Sure  the  Lord  only  knows  what  we  poor  engineers 
Must  all  do  for  a  living ;  I  fear  we  will  starve, 
If  a  plan  can't  be  found  airy  nothings  to  carve  ! 
And  a  dish  of  wind-pudding  contrived  from  our 

breath, 
To  protect  us  from  hunger  and  save  us  from 

death. 

Oh !  if  such  is  discovered  we'll  chorus  in  glee 
Without  fear  of  starvation,  for  water  is  free  ! 


398  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Listen,  boys  ;  I've  an  antidote  here  for  your  ills, 
You  will  find  it  far  safer  than  powder  or  pills  : 
Keep  your  tongues  in  your  cheeks,  do  not  dare  let 

them  wag ; 

Should  that  fail,  in  each  mouth  stuff  a  close-fitting- 
gag-; 

If  you  do,  you'll  have  nothing-  to  fear  boys,because 
There's  no  danger  at  all  from  our  rules  or  our 

laws, 

Unless  grossly  perverted  by  those  who'd  destroy 
The  best  organization  in  railroad  employ. 

We  shall  always  be  faithful  to  men  whom  we 

serve, 

From  the  strict  line  of  duty  we  never  shall  swerve, 
We  are  true  to  their  interests,  give  them  our  lives, 
Never  thinking  of  dear  ones,  our  children  and 

wives. 
When  the  martyrs  to  duty  are  called  from  the 

grave, 

Engineers  will  be  first  in  the  ranks  of  the  brave, 
With  their  firemen  beside  them  they'll  march  to 

the  fore, 
Where  eternal  reward  will  be  theirs  evermore. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  399 

THREE  TOASTS. 

Come,  my  boys,  the  decanter  fill  full  till  we  drink 
A  few  toasts  here  to-night,  let  our  hearts  never 

sink, 

For  in  wine  there  is  pleasure,  let  lunatics  bawl 
About  poison  therein,  to  the  de'il  with  them  all. 
Every  man  fill  his  glass  till  the  beads  bubble  o'er, 
We  will  drink  it  to-night,  and  we  drank  it  before. 
Get  youready,clasps  hands  with  a  hearty  hurrah. 
Now  the  toast !  "  Here's  success  to  you  Erin-go- 
Bragh ! " 

They  are  drained !  Let  us  fill  them  to  flowing 
again, 

Till  we  pledge  in  full  bumpers  the  brave-hearted 

men 

Who  defy  every  dungeon,  the  scaffold,  and  block, 
And  can  fight  for  her  freedom,  with  hearts  like 

the  rock. 

Who  are  trying  to  burst  every  link  of  the  chain 
That  is  bin  ding  her  limbs  and  is  causing  her  pain. 
Now  the  toast !  drink  it  standing,  the  chorus  shall 

swell 
Here's  to  all  who  are  with  you,  dear  leader,  Par- 

nell! 

Fill  once  more  while  we're  sober,  although  'tis 

the  last 
Till  again  we  assemble  to  talk  of  the  past ; 


400  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

And  to  plan  for  the  future, as  true  men  should  do, 
Who've  a  countay  to  wrench  from  a  despotic 

crew. 

See  !  the  sun  is  just  rising  far  off  in  the  east, 
He  will  soon  shed  his  beams  on  our  wine-drinking 

feast ; 

Now,my  boys,  stand  in  order,drink  freely  to  those 
Who  will  never  give  up  till  we  conquer  our  foes. 


DUTY'S  CALL. 

RAILROADING  ON  THE  B.  U.  L. 

"Wake  up  from  sleep"  the  caller  said, 
I  quickly  bounded  out  of  bed, 
A  stupid  feeling  in  my  head, 

When  roused  in  such  a  fury ; 
I  thought  I  scarcely  closed  my  eyes, 
He  routed  me  in  such  surprise. 
I'll  curse  him  till  the  day  he  dies, 

In  spite  of  judge  or  jury. 

Three  hundred  miles  my  aching  back 
Was  bounded  o'er  uneven  track; 
My  stiffened  joints  were  fit  to  crack, 
From  such  a  constant  motion. 
I  suffered  more  than  tongue  can  tell, 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  401 

Far  worse  than  imps  confined  in — well 
We  rolled  about  in  every  swell, 
Like  ships  upon  the  ocean. 

My  brothers,  in  a  'sunny  clime, 

Who  read  this  simple,  truthful  rhyme, 

You  little  know  the  awful  time 

We  have  in  frosty  weather ; 
We  blow  our  fingers  and  our  thumbs 
To  keep  them  warm,  we  dine  on  crumbs, 
Or  grub  dished  up  in  boarding-  slums, 

Where  dozens  hive  together. 

In  drifts  of  snow  we  nearly  freeze, 
Exposed  to  ev'ry  cutting  breeze ; 
The  glass  tells  twenty-five  degrees 

Below  what  men  call  "zero." 
Our  noses  have  a  hazy  hue — 
A  most  repulsive  looking  blue — 
Besides,  our  whole  official  crew, 

Have  hearts  as  hard  as  Nero. 

They  drive  us  out  when  needing  sleep, 
A  harvest  for  themselves  to  reap ; 
Because  they  get  our  labor  cheap, 
And  pay  in  scrip  quite  often. 
The  rails  are  only  half  way  tied, 

26 


402  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

The  joints  apart  are  opened  wide, 
'Tis  certain  death  for  men  to  ride 

When  Spring1  embankments  soften. 

My  heart  would  bound  with  honest  joy, 
If  I  could  find  some  good  employ, 
Where  callers  never  would  annoy 

A  man  from  night  till  morning- ; 
And  where  no  snow-drifts  would  be  seen, 
Where  fields  would  wear  perennial  green, 
And  skies  would  always  look  serene, 

Our  lives  in  joy  adorning-. 

Perhaps  good  luck  I  yet  may  meet, 
And  get  away  from  snow  and  sleet, 
To  some  choice  clime  where  tranquil  heat 

To  railroad  men  is  given ; 
The  only  place  I'm  sure  to  find 
A  climate,  suited  to  my  mind, 
Where  evermore  I'll  feel  resigned, 

Is  up  with  God  in  Heaven. 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  403 

TO   KITTIE  BLAINE. 

Miss(?)  Kittle  Elaine — perhaps  the  "Miss" 

Is  not  the  proper  thing-  to  write, 
Yet,  in  a  dream  of  perfect  bliss, 

I'll  fancy  you  a  maid  to-night — 
Your  lines  upon  the  engineer 
Are  truthful,  musical,  sincere, 
And  I,  an  humble  rhyming  chap, 
Now  doff  to  you  my  greasy  cap, 
In  heartfelt  thanks  for  such  a  song 
As  you  so  kindly  sent  along, 
To  cheer  us  up,  and  drive  despair 
Away  from  hearts  consumed  by  care. 
We've  all  been  cooped  in  cabs  for  years, 
Like  hens,  when  house- wives  have  their  fears 
That  neighbor's  stones  may  thin  the  brood 
Of  scratching  thieves,  when  seeking  food. 
In  summer,  winter,  spring  and  fall, 
We  must  respond  to  duty's  call. 
We're  blanched  and  beaten  by  the  blast, 
Our  blooming  cheeks  are  fading  fast, 
We're  friendless,  save  yourself,  I  find 
Your  sex  are  silent  or  unkind ; 
They  never  send  a  word  along 
To  cheer  us  up,  much  less  a  song. 
But  now  we  will  enthrone'you  queen 


404  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Of  all  the  boys  throughout  the  land. 
Where  e'er  a  smoky  phiz  is  seen 
A  heart  is  there  at  your  command . 

If  my  rheumatic  harp  could  sing- 
Such  music  as  your  gifted  lyre, 
I'd  make  the  hills  and  valleys  ring 

Our  thanks  in  true,  poetic  fire. 
In  numbers  we're  an  army  now, 
With  hero  stamped  on  every  brow. 
For  you  have  proved  it  in  your  song, 
And,  madam,  you  have  told  no  wrong ; 
Indeed  we  know  you  were  sincere 
When  writing  on  the  engineer. 
Suppose  we  enter  partnership, 
And  cruise  upon  a  rhyming  trip ; 
I'll  pass  the  work  rough-hewn  to  you, 
Your  dainty  fingers  soon  can  do 
The  pruning,  trimming,  weeding  out, 
Of  vulgar  words  I  strew  about ; 
I'll  tell  you  of  our  daily  joys — 
The  pleasures  surfeiting  the  boys— 
The  grandeur  of  the  scenes  we  pass, 
Until  they  seem  a  moving  mass, 
Parading  "for  our  special  sight, 
On  cloudless  day  and  fogless  night. 
Then  you  can  weave  a,  song-boquet, 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  405 

And  sing1  it  to  the  brothers  all ; 
While  I  can  bask  in  beauty?s  ray, 
A  willing-  slave  who  loves  the  thrall ! 

Please  give  me  your  attention  now, 
Sweet  song-stress!  and  don't  think  me  rude, 

Nor  cloud  your  genius-crested  brow, 
If  I  offensively  intrude 

By  making  some  inquiries,  so 

I'll  ascertain  how  far  to  go 

In  my  expressions  as  I  rhyme 

The  thanks  of  men  you've  sung  sublime. 

Now,  tell — oh,  dear !  I'm  so  afraid — 

Please  mention  if  you  are  a  maid  ? 

If  so,  by  mig-hty  Jove  !  I  swear, 

You're  launched  on  life  with  prospects  fair, 

And  soon  shall  find  a  dear  one,  true, 

Who'll  more  than  brother  be  to  you  ; 

Who'll  press  on  your  melodious  lips 

Delights  that  other  joys  eclipse. 

Perhaps  you  are  a  faithful  wife, 

And  coupled  up  to  one  for  life, 

Who,  like  myself,  toils  ev'ry  day 

For  pleasure,  disregarding-  pay ; 

If  so  you  are  a  happy  spouse, 

And  mistress  of  some  cozy  house. 

If  you  a  blooming-  widow  be — 


406  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

My  stars !  How  impudent  of  me, 
To  sneak  Paul  Prying-,  but,  if  so, 
I  do  respect  your  weeds  and  woe  ! 
For  widows  who've  been  sore  distrest 
I  have  a  soft  spot  'neath  my  vest ! 
Some  dear  departed  boys  I've  laid 
Beneath  the  sod,  and  often  prayed 
With  all  their  poor  heart-broken  wives, 
For  God  to  guard  their  lonely  lives. 
Some  other  chaps  have  done  the  same, 
Successful  too  !  and  "  blocked  my  game !  " 
But  be  you  widow,  wife,  or  maid, 
In  blooming-  youth,  or  near  the  shade 
Of  ripened  years,  where  art  must  hide 
The  buffets  met  on  life's  rough  tide, 
I  thank  you  truly  and  1  know 

My  brothers  of  the  foot-board  here, 
Express  the  same,  with  hearts  aglow, 

For  praising  up  the  engineer. 


SABBATH  MUSINGS. 

There's  a  rhyming  fit  upon  me,  and  its  prompt 
ings  I  obey, 

In  a  crude,  unmeasured  jingle,  on  this  holy  Sab 
bath  day, 

As  the  bells  for  church  are  chiming,  and  I'll  note 
some  passers  by 


SHANDY  MAGUIRE.  407 

And  describe  them  in  my  stanzas,  as  familiar  ones 
I  spy. 

Here  comes  Eggleston  in  meekness,  with  a  hymn 

hook  in  his  hand, 
And  heside  him  strides  an  angel  hy  the  name  of 

L.  O.  Rand ; 
They're  a  pious  pair  of  play-boys  as  e'er  punched 

a  duplex  true, 
Dressed  in  Sunday-go-to-meetings,  for  a  snooze 

within  the  pew. 

Dan  is  something1  of  an  angler,  he  can  "  whip  a 

stream  "  in  style, 
He  entices  fish  from  water  with  a  sanctimonious 

smile. 

In  a  piscatorial  manner  he  enlarges  on  his  luck, 
And  regrets  the  loss  of  monsters  that  escape  from 

off  his  hook. 

Rand  is  quite  a  different  fellow,  one  who  never 

tells  a  lie, 
But  keeps  plodding  upward  surely  to  a  mansion 

in  the  sky, 
Charlie  Fisk  says  Rand  will  get  there  if  St.  Peter's 

at  the  door, 
When  he  hears  him  tell  a  story,  he  will  punch  his 

ticket  sure. 


408  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

Well,  my  own  opinion,  truly,  of  this  trio — it  is 

this : 
If  they  ever  enter  heaven  to  reside  in  homes  of 

bliss 
They'll  deceive  the  Chief  Conductor,all  who  know 

them  will  agree, 
And,  besides,  dear  sinful  reader,  there's  a  chance 

for  you  and  me. 

But  the  bells  have  ceased  their  tolling-.  I  must 
hie  me  with  the  throng-, 

I  regret  to  close  abruptly  this  discordant,  truth 
ful  song-, 

Yet,  upon  some  near  occasion  I  will  make  a  little 
noise, 

Telling-  all  the  Monthly's  readers  what  I  know 
about  the  boys. 


THE  WINTER  WINDS  WHISTLE. 
The  winter  winds  whistle, 

The  skies  frown  in  wrath, 
Misfortune  seems  driving- 

On  merciless  path. 

The  snowdrifts  are  piling- 
On  mountain  and  moor, 

A  sig-ht  which  is  dreadful 
To  those  who  are  poor. 


SHANDY  MAGUIKE.  409 

There's  joy  for  the  wealthy, 

Whose  clothing-  is  warm 
When  Boreas  is  reigning1, 

The  king  of  the  storm. 

But  we  who  are  fighting 

For  bread  which  we  eat, 
Must  suffer  fresh  torments 

And  luckless  defeat. 

Each  day  brings  its  sorrow, 

And  night  brings  no  rest, 
Nor  hope  for  the  morrow, 

When  thus  we're  oppressed. 

Yet,  Hope  is  a  siren, 

She  woos  us  along 
With  coaxing  delusive, 

And  false,  fickle  song1. 

Obscured  is  the  future, 

'Tis  dark  to  our  view, 
But  onward  we're  driven 

The  path  to  pursue. 

Perhaps  the  bright  portals 

Of  fortune  shall  ope — 
Ah  !  down  you  deluder, 

That  wish  sprung  from  hope. 


410  SHANDY  MAGUIRE. 

"COPY." 

Dear  reader,  perhaps  you  have  threaded 

The  verg-e  of  old  Satan's  domain  ; 
Or  may  be  at  times  you've  been  wedded, 

To  imps  which  have  marched  in  his  train, 
Or  suffered  in  torture  and  trouble, 

When  bumpers  of  grief  bubbled  o'er, 
If  uo,  all  your  ills  were  a  bubble, 

Compared  with  my  sorrowful  store. 

I  am  now  "in  the  hands  of  my  printer," 

And  "  copy  "  he  cries,  with  a  growl 
Which  sounds  like  old  Boreas  in  winter, 

When  forth  full  of  veng-eance  he'll  howl. 
'Tis  "copy  "  both  night,  noon,  and  morning1, 

The  rascal  repeatedly  dins ; 
I'd  torture  the  wretch  without  warning-, 

If  he  were  absolved  from  his  sins. 

If  dull  and  insipid  I'm  feeling1, 

No  mercy  he  shows  me  at  all ; 
But  all  of  my  senses  go  reeling 

When  lustily  for  "  copy  "  he'll  bawl. 
I  scream  in  the  direst  distraction, 

And  wander  to  places  alone, 
Where,  free  from  his  prying-  detection, 

In  ang-uish  I  ruefully  moan. 


SHANDY   MAGUIRE.  411 

When  whips  are  cracked  tirelessly  o'er  us, 

The  brain  will  scarce  ever  reply ; 
'Tis  seldom  we  sing1  in  free  chorus, 

When  made  by  such  means  to  comply ; 
But  if  we've  no  fear  of  a  master, 

The  Muse  will  delight  on  the  wing1, 
And  "  copy  "  will  surely  flow  faster, 

When  thus  full  of  freedom  we  sing-. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

A  Member  of  One-Fifty-Two 11 

A  Reply  to  Mollie  Bawn 28 

A  Reply  to  Salsie 16 

A  Welcome  to  the  Household  Visitor 30 

A  "Welcome  to  the  Journal 32 

A  Prayer 34 

A  Trip  in  Charon's  Ferry 49 

A  Cold  Water  Lyric 53 

A  Pen  Picture 66 

Air  Castles 123 

A  Reply  to  a  Request 131 

A  Vision  of  the  Night 204 

A  Happy  New  Year 260 

A  Trip  in  Dreamland 344 

An  Album  Rhyme 72 

An  Epistle  to  a  Friend 278 

At  the  Grave  of  an  Infant 302 

A  "Wedding  Present  J.  T.  K 307 

Away  with  your  Flimsy  Romances 314 

A  Negative  Vote  on  the  Woman's  Department 355 

An  Epistle  to  a  Friend 361 

A  Song  for  the  Boys , 392 

Baby's  Welcome •.   134 

Blighted  Hopes 181 

Bury  the  Past 191 

Come,  Boys,  Fill  Your  Glasses 366 

Christmas 114 

Come  Nestle  up  Closely,  My  Darling 180 

Church  Musings..,  .  211 


CONTENTS.  ii 

Come,  My  Love,  with  Raven  Tresses 259 

Come,  Fill  up  your  Glass  to  O'erflowing 319 

Christmas  Eve  in  Camp 340 

"  Copy  " 410 

Declining  Aldennanic  Honors 38 

Death  Levels  All 78 

Dedication  Lines,  Div.  18 280 

Doctor  L.  Reynolds 327 

Doubts  and  Truths 386 

Duty's  Call 400 

Evening  Chimes 243 

Exit  Seventy-F^our 56 

Eighty-Three,  Farewell 255 

Father  Mathew  Temperance  Society 149 

Foot-Board  Reflections 375 

Hope,  the  Deceiver 136 

It  is  Better  to  Sing 283 

In  Memoriam,  Phillip  Doyle 36 

In  Memoriam,  J.  A.  McCarthy 238 

I  Cannot  Sing  To-night,  Love 186 

I  have  Roughed  it  Along 359 

Kittie,  Dear 107 

Loss  of  the  Schooner  Jenkins 70 

Little  Brown  Eyes 323 

Lake  Michigan 94 

Loss  of  the  Schooner  Persian 145 

Lines  at  the  Request  of  a  Widowed  Friend 173 

Memories  of  Youth , 9 

More  Trouble. . .  82 


ill  CONTENTS. 

My  Castle  in  Spain 120 

Mollies  "Wooing 125 

Miners'  "Wages  Advanced 247 

My  Fireman 276 

Moonlight  Fancies 290 

Nudis  Yerbis 266 

Neuralgia 382 

''  No  Smoking  on  Duty  " 363 

Our  Letter  Carriers 92 

"  Only  A  Tramp  " 158 

Organization  of  Div.  167,  0.  K.  C 351 

Out  of  the  Shop 188 

Prosperity's  Pet 197 

Pour  Out  a  Goodly  Cup  of  Cheer 241 

"  Patience  " 47 

Pleasure  and  Pastime 115 

Keflections  on  Life 192 

Retrospection 227 

Show  Mercy  to  the  Erring 129 

Sit  You  Down  at  My  Side 236 

Some  Truth  in  Rhyme 396 

Sabbath  Musings 406 

To  the  Local  Editor,  Morning  Herald 15 

The  Dying  Peasant 19 

To  the  Members  of  the  B.  of  L.  E 24 

To  the  Author  of  "  Old  Tar's  Twisters  " 26 

To  Angeline  S 40 

To  "W.  B.  Phelps 42 

To  Mike  of  Garryowen 44 

The  Good  Time  Coming 60 

To  P.  M.  Arthur , , 63 


CONTENTS.  iv 

To  Doctor  L.  Reynolds 75 

The  Freaks  of  Fortune 86 

The  Coming  of  Spring 95 

To  An  Importunate  Contributor 96 

To  R.  F.  Leffin 101 

The  Clergy  on  Hell 104 

The  Clam  Bake 108 

To  "  Handy  Andy  " 250 

To  My  Blackthorn  Canes 264 

The  Exiles 270 

Two  Pictures 271 

To  the  Members  Ladies' Aid  Society,  Burlington,  Iowa. .  284 

The  River  St.  Lawrence 287 

The  Exile's  Return, 292 

Trials  and  Tribulations 298 

To  the  Members  of  Div.  136,  Evanston,  "Wyoming 303 

To  A  Friend 311 

To  A  Reporter 316 

To  J.  D.  Hammond 320 

To  "  Handy  Andy  " 325 

To  Grand  Chaplain  Everett 336 

To  Miss  Emma  Avery 126 

To  the  Robin  Red-breast 138 

To  Mrs.  E.  M.   Hooker 139 

To  "  Mobilian  " 148 

To  the  Author  of  "  Sunday  Labor  " 153 

To  Doctor  Reynolds 160 

The  Rhymer  to  his  Pen 162 

To  the  Centennial  Committee 165 

To  Madam  Rebecca 169 

To  C.  B.  Benson 220 

To  Miss  Ella  Lewis 380 

To  Alderman  Benz 383 

The  Battle  of  the  Clan* 230 

The  Homeward  Bound 215 

The  Hats  Our  Father's  Wore 357 

The  First  Gray  Hair 368 


V  CONTENTS. 

Thanks  for  a  Christmas  Turkey 371 

The  Joys  of  Labor 176 

Time's  Yisit 199 

To  the  Eev.  F.  H.  Beck 390 

Three  Toasts 399 

To  Kittie  Elaine 403 

The  Winter  Winds  Whistle 408 

Union  Meeting,  Kochester,  1ST.  Y 233 

Union  Meeting,  Bangor,  Me 330 

Winsome  Jennie 333 

Where  do  the  Wicked  Sleep  ? 156 

Written  Under  a  Photographic  Group 394 

You  are  all  that  My  Fancy  can  wish  for,  My  Dear 254 

Your  Own  Native  Town 377 


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